


The Fire Within

by Eowyn315



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Episode: s06e07 Once More With Feeling, F/F, F/M, Musical References, Musicals, Season/Series 06, Singing, Sorry Not Sorry, only the Spuffy is explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-28
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 14:32:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6379975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eowyn315/pseuds/Eowyn315
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle's done, and they kinda won... but what if they never stopped singing? A musical sequel to "Once More With Feeling."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written and posted to LiveJournal back in 2007, but I only just realized that for some reason, I never posted it here. Despite it being nine years old, I'm resisting the urge to edit it and posting it pretty much as is, other than condensing the chapters for easier posting. (If I were writing it today, it almost certainly would include many, many Hamilton and Next to Normal references.)
> 
> This was one of my more experimental fics. At the time, although "songfic" was a thing, I wasn't aware of anyone crazy enough to write a full-scale musical fanfic, but "Once More With Feeling" just sort of begged for it. Seeing as how I’m not a composer/lyricist, and didn’t have the time or the inclination to actually write a musical all on my own, I took songs from existing musicals, and at times changed the lyrics to fit the story. The Notes section at the end of each chapter will include where the musical numbers are from, and provide YouTube links if I can find them, so you can listen for yourself.

Buffy pulled away from Spike, breaking the kiss as the music faded. She felt the abrupt sensation of regaining control over her body, and it dawned on her exactly what she was doing. “Oh my God,” she muttered, disgusted with herself, wiping at her lips with her hand. “Oh my God!”  
  
“Buffy…”  
  
“What are we… ugh, that was… ugh.” She turned away from him, frazzled, before whipping back around. “It was the spell,” she said, a defensive tone creeping into her voice.  
  
Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Demon’s gone.”  
  
“Then why were we still singing?” Buffy crossed her arms over her chest. “It had to be the spell.”  
  
Spike stepped closer. Too close. Close enough that she could smell leather and cigarettes, and the lingering scent of her own perfume on him. “From what I gather,” he said, his voice low and husky in her ear, “the music brings out your true feelings, love.”  
  
He had her now, he was sure of it. Hadn’t he been saying it for a year, that there was something between them? That spark, that undeniable attraction – it was there every time they fought, every time they were even in the same room together. He _knew_ Buffy had feelings for him, and it only took a dancing demon to bring it out of her.  
  
“Stop it!” Buffy pushed him away. “It was – weren’t you listening? ‘This isn’t real, but I just want to feel,’” she quoted herself. “You’re just… convenient.”  
  
“Oh, so if we’d stayed in there, you’d’ve snogged Harris, then?” Spike waved his hand toward the Bronze and scoffed. “You bloody well know the reason why you were kissing me, Slayer.”  
  
“No,” Buffy said, less certain now as she backed away from him. Had she mentioned just how much she didn’t like this? Losing control of her mouth, blurting out her darkest secrets as soon as the song started, and, oh yeah, the whole almost killing herself by dancing. Now, here she was, making out with Spike – _Spike!_ Of all people. Or, well, demons… things. And the worst part – she couldn’t stop herself. Damn demon and his stupid music.  
  
But she couldn’t deny that kissing Spike had made her feel more alive than she’d been since coming back. His touch sent currents of electricity jolting through her body, and she felt as if she was waking up from a deep sleep, parts of her that had been numb for weeks suddenly bursting with new life, humming with emotions so strong they threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
The strongest one being desire.  
  
Spike leaned toward her, engulfing her with his scent, his voice, his touch. Buffy glanced up and was swept away in his gaze, his blue eyes sparkling with need. They mesmerized her, mirroring the passion she felt deep within herself. Any protests that Buffy had were lost as Spike’s mouth captured hers and his tongue probed gently, seeking entrance to the warm hollow of her mouth. Her lips parted slightly, granting him access, and the kiss deepened, stoking the fire that had started between them.  
  
The two were vaguely aware of the music, a melodic minor key with a soft, compelling beat that propelled them back to Spike’s crypt. Before her mind had a chance to catch up with her body, Buffy found herself tumbling onto the bed, still tangled up in Spike, who was now shirtless as he buried his face in the cowl-neck of her red top, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat. She moaned, surprised to find herself matching the tone of the music.

 _“_ _Mmmm… ahhh…”_ Buffy boldly ran her hands over Spike’s bare chest, feeling the muscles tense beneath her fingertips. His body was hard, compact, and coiled like a spring waiting to be sprung.  
  
Spike tightened his vise-grip on her, pulling her flush against him. Buffy’s moans of pleasure gave way to words, and she began to sing.  
  
_“Kiss me too fiercely  
Hold me too tight  
I need help believing  
You're with me tonight  
My wildest dreaming  
Could not foresee  
Lying beside you  
With you wanting me”_  
  
Spike growled with desire, drinking in her scent, a mixture of sweet perfume and musky desire. He pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it to the floor where it joined his red button-down and black tee. Spike lowered his head, taking Buffy’s bra-covered nipple into his mouth, teasing it to a hardened peak as he tweaked the other with his fingers, propelling her into the chorus.  
  
_“And just for this moment  
As long as you're mine  
I've lost all resistance  
And crossed some borderline  
And if it turns out  
It's over too fast  
I'll make every last moment last  
As long as you're mine”_  
  
Spike rolled onto his back and pulled Buffy up to perch astride his hips, running his hands across her back, unclasping her bra and sliding it off her in one fluid motion as he sang to her:  
  
_“Maybe I'm brainless_  
_Maybe I'm wise_  
_But you've got me seeing_  
_Though different eyes_  
_Somehow I've fallen_  
_Under your spell_  
_And somehow I'm feeling_  
_It's up that I fell”_  
  
Tracing his hands over her body with reverence, he memorized the curve of her shoulders, the dip of her slender waist, the gentle swell of her breasts, the pebbled texture of her taut nipples. He could scarcely believe that she was here, that this was finally happening, and he wanted to commit every moment to memory, fearful that he would face the usual rejection once the spell broke.

Buffy lowered her hand to his zipper, releasing his aching cock from its tight imprisonment. Spike groaned at the light touch as her fingers brushed over him. The desire between the two reached a frantic height as they hurriedly shucked off their jeans. Buffy’s voice joined with Spike’s, both edged with desperation and passion.  
  
_“Every moment  
As long as you're mine  
I'll wake up my body  
And make up for lost time”_  
  
_“Say there's no future,”_ Spike sang to her, lifting his hips and letting his cock rub against the crotch of her thong, now soaking wet between her thighs. She whimpered with need at the touch. _“For us as a pair.”_  
  
Their eyes met in understanding, and they sang together, their voices laden with lust, at the point of no return. _“And though I may know, I don't care.”_  
  
Wrapping his arms around Buffy, Spike reversed their positions once again as he ground his erection against her. The slight hitch in her voice as he brushed against her clit urged him on, and he ripped away the tiny scrap of material covering her sex. As the music reached its height, Spike slid inside, burying himself to the hilt in her warmth, making Buffy arch her back as a bolt of pleasurable pain raced through her. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, gripping them as though holding on for dear life.  
  
_“Just for this moment_  
_As long as you're mine_  
_Come be how you want to_  
_And see how bright we shine_  
_Borrow the moonlight_  
_Until it is through_  
_And know I'll be here holding you_  
_As long as you're mine”_  
  
The instrumental refrain repeated, fading slowly as it was replaced with the chorus of Buffy and Spike’s moans as they thrust against each other, passion building even as the spell dissipated. When their climax came, it was hard and fast, overtaking them with the heat and intensity of an all-consuming fire, until they had nothing left but the smoldering embers of their desire.

*****

“Still no sign of Buffy,” said Willow, entering the bedroom she and Tara shared in the Summers home.  
  
“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Tara replied from her perch on the bed. She didn’t look at Willow when she spoke, fixing her gaze, instead, on something she was playing with in her lap. “She probably wanted to be alone after…”  
  
“God, I feel so awful!” Willow muttered, as she threw herself on the bed next to her lover. “I mean, she was in _heaven_ , and we… God.” She trailed off, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“Maybe… maybe that’s the problem,” Tara said, chewing on her bottom lip.  
  
Willow looked up, a puzzled frown on her face. “What?”  
  
“You, trying to play God. Willow, the magic thing – it’s gotta stop.”  
  
“What are you talking about?” She sat up to look Tara in the eye. “I don’t – I would never… I thought I was _helping_ her! We all did! We thought she was in some hell dimension.”  
  
Tara shook her head sadly. “That’s not the point, Will. This is about you using magic to get your way. You – you change things, mess with things that shouldn’t be – You take the easy way out, in-instead of dealing.”  
  
“Like what? I mean, other than Buffy, which we all agreed to. When have I done that?”  
  
Tara lifted her hand out of her lap and held up the Lethe’s bramble Willow had used to cast the forgetting spell. “What is this?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm. She already knew what the herb had been used for, but she needed to hear it from Willow.  
  
“Sweetie, it’s not what you –”  
  
“You did a spell on me!” Tara was close to tears. “You invaded my mind! How could you? After everything – after Glory?” She shuddered at the still-fresh memory of the awful, lonely place where she’d wandered during that time last spring when Glory had sucked her brain. Even after she’d had her mind restored, she had never quite shaken off the nightmares, and the idea of someone else – someone she _loved_ – violating her like that…  
  
“What did you make me forget, Willow?”  
  
Willow cast her eyes to the floor. “We had a fight. I just didn’t – I wanted it to be over.”  
  
“You can’t just use m-magic to make your problems go away!” Tara cried, jumping off the bed, realization dawning on her suddenly. “That’s what it was about, wasn’t it? We were f-fighting over you using too much magic.”  
  
“Tara –”  
  
“I can’t believe you’d do that! I can’t believe you would d-do that to me.” She choked back a sob, her next words barely above a whisper. “Was it worth it? Losing my trust over this? We – we could have talked about it! Was it worth it just to avoid a conversation?”  
  
Willow’s eyes widened, brimming with tears. She leapt to her feet and tried to reach out to Tara, but her lover shied away. “Losing your… baby, I swear, it was just this once…”  
  
“How do I know that, Willow?” Tara’s shoulders sagged, defeated. “How will I ever know?” She looked at Willow sorrowfully, and then began to sing.  
  
_“If I’m not mistaken, this is nothing new  
Bet I could tell you when it began  
I noticed a change, but I just closed my eyes  
As only a woman can  
  
“No, I didn’t dig deep  
I did not want to know  
Well, you don’t interfere  
When you’re scared of the things you might hear”_  
  
“Tara…”  
  
As a mournful piano continued to play, Tara shook her head sadly. “I’m sorry, Willow. I can’t do this. I c-can’t just sit back and watch while you abuse magic like this… and I won’t let you abuse me.” She gathered up her pillow and a blanket. “I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight. Then, I’m moving out.”  
  
“Tara,” Willow tried again, but Tara was already gone. She picked up the forgetting herb off the bed and twirled it in her fingers, letting the tears run down her cheeks as she tried to figure out how her life had fallen apart so quickly. _“When this all began, we knew there'd be a price...”_ she sang softly. She just hadn’t known the price would be Tara.  
  
_“Once upon a dream  
We were lost in love's embrace  
There we found a perfect place  
Once upon a dream  
  
“Once there was a time  
Like no other time before  
Hope was still an open door  
Once upon a dream”_  
  
Memories came rushing to the fore – the spells, the whispered conversations, the tender moments. The intensity of the connection they’d forged through love and magic, taken from her so suddenly it was like losing a limb, losing a part of herself. As her emotion grew, the music rose in speed and pitch, spurring her on through the forceful bridge.  
  
_“And I was unafraid  
The dream was so exciting  
But now I see it fade  
And I am here alone”_  
  
Was it only two days since Tara had sung to her in the park? When they’d been so happy and in love and…  
  
No, she was fooling herself. They still would’ve been fighting, if Willow hadn’t done her spell. But it wasn’t true, what Tara said, about her abusing magic. It couldn’t be true. She only used magic for good things, like fighting demons and saving people.  
  
And pulling Buffy out of heaven.  
  
Willow collapsed on the bed in a fresh bout of tears. It wasn’t enough that she’d lost her girlfriend; she’d apparently ruined her best friend’s life by bringing her back from the dead.  
  
_“Once upon a dream  
You were heaven-sent to me  
Was it never meant to be?  
Was it just a dream?  
Could we begin again?  
Once upon a dream”_  
  
At least everything made sense now. The way Buffy had been acting, why she hadn’t seemed happy or grateful that they’d resurrected her.  
  
Well, no more.  
  
_“When this all began_  
_We knew there'd be a price to pay_  
_Too late now to turn away_  
_We have come too far_  
_I know I'll find a way”_  
  
Wiping the tears from her face, Willow sat up with renewed determination. She would fix this. No matter what it took.

*****

“Oh my God.”  
  
Spike rolled over lazily and looked at Buffy. “You keep sayin’ that.”  
  
She sat up in bed, clutching the red sheet to her chest. “Well, first it was an ‘oh my God, what am I thinking?’ kind of thing. Then you started doing that thing with your tongue and it was an ‘oh my God, that feels so…’ – ohhhhhh.” She broke off into a moan as Spike’s fingers slid up her inner thigh, sticky with last night’s spendings. “Stop that.”  
  
In response, Spike started nuzzling her side, licking the skin at her hip. “I mean it, stop that. Now we’re back to ‘what am I thinking?’ territory and… oh God…”  
  
She felt him grinning against her flesh as his slender finger slipped inside her. “Mmmm… I beg to differ, pet.”  
  
Buffy slid back down the bed, her legs falling open to grant Spike better access. “Ohhh, yes… no, wait!” she protested, wriggling away from him. “Spell!”  
  
Spike looked at her with a mixture of impatience and bemusement. “This has to be the spell. I don’t even really like you!” she insisted, starting to crawl out of bed, pulling the sheet with her.  
  
Spike pulled back, reeling in both sheet and Buffy until he could wrap his arms around her again. “’S not what you were saying last night. Pretty sure there were at least a few parts of me you were professing love for.” A wicked grin crept across his face and his eyes went glassy at the memory.  
  
“This was a mistake, Spike. I can’t believe I let myself –” She whipped around and grabbed him by the throat. “My friends _never_ hear about this, you understand?”  
  
He took a rasping breath, more from surprise than anything else, and released her from his grasp, hoping she’d do the same. “Yeah, pet.” All signs of affection vanished from his expression, closing off his emotions as he resigned himself to the resumption of their usual roles.  
  
She let go and attempted to once again leave the bed, this time managing to make it to the pile of clothes on the floor. Spike reached one arm toward the bedside table, patting around for a pack of cigarettes but coming up empty-handed. Which was too bad, because he could _really_ use a cigarette. Or two. Packs.  
  
As he watched Buffy dress, Spike mourned the loss of their brief but incredible union. Already it seemed like nothing more than a dream, a foolish fantasy that could never withstand the harsh light of day. Had she really been here, giving him soft caresses and fierce, hungry kisses, drowning him with the scent, the feel, the taste of her? Had they really – dare he say it? – made love in his bed, rising to new heights of passion with every extraordinary touch?  
  
He knew it all to be true, and yet, watching her now, that night which meant everything to him seemed a million miles away.  
  
But bloody fucking hell, it had been worth it.  
  
“I have to go,” she said, adjusting her shirt, attempting to scrounge some decency from the rumpled mess. “It must be almost sunrise.”  
  
“Way past, I’d say.”  
  
“Great,” Buffy muttered. She pulled on her shoes and stood up, fully dressed. “I’m going now. I just – ugh.”  
  
She shook off her disgust at what they’d done and turned to leave, but Spike was out of bed like a shot, blocking her path. He wrapped his arms around her neck and she tried not to be distracted by the fact that he was still naked. He was a vampire, and vampire still equaled bad, even if his body was so smooth and sculpted, and his arms were like bolts of solid steel encasing her, and his cock was shiny with her juices and half-erect, bobbing around as though demanding her attention.  
  
“Slayer,” he whispered in her ear, in a tone of voice that melted her insides so that she wondered how she wasn’t a Buffy-puddle on the floor. “Don’t think you can get away so easy. You want me. You play the virtuous part, but you’ve gotten a taste. I’m in you now. You’ll be back.” Spike ran his tongue along her collarbone, trailing upwards, paying the same attention to her neck and that spot just behind her ear, causing her to emit a little gasp of pleasure.  
  
Clinging to his faith in his own prowess, and to the sweet aroma that filled his nostrils – not the lingering scent of their lovemaking, but the fresh arousal that even now was dampening the Slayer’s thighs – Spike told himself he had a chance. He had driven her to ecstasy once – well, more like several times, actually, he was quite proud of that – and he could do it again. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, even if she wouldn’t admit it.  
  
He would make her want him.  
  
He let his fingers tickle the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine, while his lips hovered millimeters from her skin, teasing mercilessly. He felt the twin points of her nipples brushing his chest through her shirt, and he pressed his erection against her, feeling through her jeans the warmth of a renewed rush of liquid heat. A mewling whimper escaped Buffy’s lips as her hands slipped around his waist, caressing his skin, but Spike quickly pulled away before she could do anything to relieve the growing ache of her unsatisfied stimulation.  
  
“Go,” Spike said, with a smirk that told her he didn’t expect her to be gone for long.  
  
Pausing outside the crypt, in the blazing sunlight, Buffy looked back and wondered aloud, “What was that?  
  
_“Was that me?  
Was that him?  
Did Spike really kiss me?  
And kiss me?  
And kiss me?”_  
  
She ran her fingertips over the spot on her neck where he’d licked her.  
  
_“And did I kiss him back?  
Was it wrong?  
Am I mad?  
Is that all?  
Does he miss me?  
Was he suddenly  
Getting bored with me?”_  
  
She shook her head as if to clear the crazy thoughts from her mind and began to march purposefully through the cemetery.  
  
_“Wake up! Stop dreaming  
Stop prancing about the graves  
It's not beseeming  
What is it about this spell?  
  
"Back to life, back to sense  
Back to Dawn, back to Scoobies  
He will never be good  
There are vows, there are ties  
There are needs, there are standards  
There are shouldn'ts and shoulds”_  
  
She slowed down to a meandering pace, tilting her head to one side in thought.  
  
_“Why not both instead?  
There's the answer, if you're clever  
Have a sister for warmth  
And a Watcher for aid  
And a vampire for… whatever…”_  
  
A small satisfied smile crept across her face as she remembered how her limbs had dissolved into the quaking, writhing bliss of orgasm under his skilled mouth and hands and body, before her eyes widened in horror as she came back to her senses and redoubled her speed, trying to put as much distance between herself and Spike as possible.  
  
_“Never!  
It's these spells  
  
“Face the facts, find the cause  
Join the group, stop the demon  
Just get out of his crypt  
Was that him? Yes, it was  
Was that me? No, it wasn't  
Just a spell-induced trick  
  
“Just a moment  
One peculiar passing moment...  
Must it all be either less or more?  
Either good or bad?  
Is it always ‘or’?  
Is it never ‘and’?  
That's what spells are for  
For those moments in the crypt…”_  
  
Somehow, ever since her resurrection, the world hadn’t seemed so black and white. Good and bad became less distinct, less disparate. She’d come back to a world where her friends caused her pain and Spike brought her… what? Happiness? Well… pleasure, that was for sure. She paused, leaning against a tombstone in a contemplative, dreamy daze, twirling a strand of her long blonde hair around one finger.  
  
_“Oh, if life were made of moments  
Even now and then a bad one  
But if life were only moments  
Then you'd never know you had one”_  
  
She rolled her eyes and started walking again.  
  
_“First the vamps, then a sister,  
Then my death, then a moment  
Who can live in this town?  
And to get what you wish  
Only just for a moment  
These are dangerous spells”_  
  
She climbed the cemetery gates, jumping to the ground on the other side. Before she left, she gazed in the direction of Spike’s crypt, running her fingers gently along the gate’s iron bars.  
  
_“Let the moment go…  
Don't forget it for a moment, though  
Just remembering you've had an ‘and’  
When you're back to ‘or’  
Makes the ‘or’ mean more  
Than it did before”_  
  
She turned away from the gate triumphantly.  
  
_“Now I understand  
And it's time to leave the crypt!”_  
  
When she made it back to her house, it was empty. A glance at the clock told her it was almost ten. Just a quick shower, then she’d have to be off to the Magic Box to figure out why the hell she was still singing.

*****

The gang was already assembled when Buffy arrived, including Giles and her sister. Xander appeared to be telling them all a story. No… upon closer inspection, Buffy realized he was singing to them.  
  
_“And the money kept rolling in from every side  
Anya's pretty hands reached out and they reached wide  
Now you may feel it should have been a voluntary cause  
But that's not the point, my friends  
When the money keeps rolling in, you don't ask how  
Me and Anya, we are guaranteed a good time now  
Anya's got the capitalist fever, open up the doors  
Never been so proud as seeing my girl a success”_  
  
He grabbed Anya’s hands and they danced around the magic shop, while the others chorused:  
  
_“Rollin' rollin' rollin', rollin' rollin' rollin'  
Rollin' rollin' rollin', rollin' rollin' rollin'  
Rollin' on in, rollin' on in  
Rollin' on in, rollin' on in  
On in”_  
  
Buffy cleared her throat, and the music quickly died away. “Oh, thank goodness,” Xander muttered, taking a seat at the table with a sheepish expression on his face. Anya pouted a bit before returning to the cash register. She liked the money song.  
  
As she looked around, Buffy was startled to find Spike leaning casually against a bookshelf. He must have taken the tunnels and beat her here while she was at home. _Stupid vampire,_ she thought. She did her best to avoid making eye contact, but somehow they managed to gravitate towards each other.  
  
“Buffy, where’ve you been?” Willow asked, her voice full of concern. “You didn’t come home last night.”  
  
Spike opened his mouth to respond, and Buffy heard the rising strains of a musical intro. She clamped her hand over Spike’s mouth and the music stopped abruptly. This was no time for the truth. Especially not if the truth was going to be a love song.  
  
“Patrol,” she said. “Thought maybe I’d find Sweet… I think he’s still around.” She looked at the others. “Guess you guys’re still singing, too.”  
  
“Anya gave me a whole operatic lecture on not playing with the merchandise,” Dawn replied.  
  
Tara also nodded, and Buffy noticed another gaze-avoidance thing going on between her and Willow. _Huh,_ she thought. _That’s weird. They seemed fine last night. Maybe they got hit with a truth-revealing showstopper._  
  
She groaned inwardly. _Speaking of which…_  
  
“Hey, uh, about last night…”  
  
“Why didn’t you tell us, Buffy?” Giles asked, unable to stop the anger and betrayal that tinted his question. Buffy’s secrecy had hurt him deeply. Of all the people she should have been able to trust – he’d expected her to be honest with him. Not in any official capacity, because Buffy shared his own growing distaste for Council practices and procedures. But as a friend, as the father figure he’d come to be, he’d never expected this sort of duplicity. “You lied. You’ve been lying to us ever since you came back.”  
  
“What was I supposed to say? ‘Guess what, guys. I know you think you did me this huge favor, but you actually really screwed things up, so I’d like to die again, please’?”  
  
At this, Willow drew in a sharp, choking breath and Dawn let out a muffled cry. Spike elbowed Buffy in the ribs. When she looked at him, he was glaring and wagging his eyebrows in an “apologize _now_ ” face.  
  
Buffy grumbled to herself – where did he get off telling her what to do? But, as usual, he was right. With a sigh, Buffy turned back to the group. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have… Look, I don’t know what to say. I mean, yeah, it’s really hard being here right now. But I’m sure… well, I think, eventually I’ll get past it, and I’ll be super-grateful for the second chance at life and all. It’s just…”  
  
“We just wanted things our way,” said Tara, in a dull, flat tone. “We needed Buffy back, and we didn’t think about the consequences.” Willow looked like she was on the verge of tears – and on the verge of saying something, but she kept quiet.  
  
“We’re really sorry, Buffy,” Tara finished. “At least, I am. Not – not sorry you’re here, but sorry we didn’t think about what maybe was best for you.”  
  
Buffy just nodded.  
  
Giles adjusted his glasses before clearing his throat. “There’s… ah, certainly some lessons to be learned here about the ramifications of magic. One shouldn’t try to control things one knows nothing about,” he finished, landing his gaze upon Willow.  
  
She gave the Watcher a deadly stare before walking out of the magic shop.  
  
“I should go after…” Buffy mumbled, pointing towards the closing door.  
  
“Nah, I’ll go,” said Xander. “No offense, Buff, but you being around kinda amps up the guilt trip. Besides, I learned a valuable lesson about magic last night.” He made a face at Anya and then followed Willow outside.  
  
Giles watched them go, before turning a thoughtful gaze upon Tara. She looked upset and uncomfortable, and Giles found himself mulling over what she’d said before. “Ah, Tara, could I speak to you in private for a moment?” he asked, motioning to the back of the store.  
  
With a nod, tshe followed him into the training room. While Anya headed down to the basement, the others grabbed books and began researching Sweet.  
  
Dawn curled up against the pillows in the reading corner. She opened her book, but her focus kept drifting to the stairs leading up to the restricted section, where Spike was perched, his own research text laying open on his lap. She watched as his jaw clenched, the muscle twitching of its own accord, his brow knitted tight in concentration. Damn, he was hot. He always treated her like a little sister, especially since he took care of her all summer in Buffy’s absence. But she was almost sixteen now, and she was certain he’d start seeing her as a real woman one of these days.  
  
Or he would have, if little Miss Love-of-My-Bloody-Unlife hadn’t been around. It so wasn’t fair that she had to compete with Buffy. Why couldn’t the monks have given her to an ugly sister, who wasn’t all special and Chosen One-y? Somebody who wouldn’t completely steal the attention and affection of the guy _she_ liked. And who wouldn’t be an absolute bitch to him about it. “Stupid Buffy,” Dawn mumbled, before she began to sing softly to herself.  
  
_“Sweet tension fills the air  
Which I know I ought not dwell upon  
I look away and I still see him there  
I’m trying not to notice him  
Yet I can’t help but stare”_  
  
Spike glanced up, but his attention didn’t fall to Dawn. He snuck a peek through the railing to where Buffy was seated at the table, poring over her book, blonde hair cascading around her shoulders like a curtain, in what was either a newfound dedication to research or a diligent effort to avoid him. Spike was pretty sure it was the latter.  
  
He ached to touch her again, to feel her surrounding him as she had last night. He’d imagined it so many times, but the real thing was incomparable. The Buffybot, Spike realized now, had been a mere shadow of the thrill that was the real Buffy. The smell of her, the taste of her – just remembering it now was enough to drive him mad with desire. He shifted the book in his lap to conceal the growing bulge in his jeans as he unknowingly picked up Dawn’s song.  
  
_“No gazing, know your place  
Words that I’d be wise to tell myself  
I close my eyes and I still see her face  
I’m trying not to notice her  
But I don’t stand a chance”_  
  
Buffy looked over her shoulder and caught Spike’s gaze for a moment before they both quickly turned away from each other.  
  
_“I’m trying not to notice him  
Yet I return each glance”_  
  
She closed her eyes, trying to expel the confusing emotions that had been roiling around inside her since the two of them had come together so spectacularly. She wanted to convince herself that it wasn’t real, that it was the spell. The singing making them do things that they would never normally do. Really, she’d _never_ have danced like such a spaz in real life. Same thing with the sex… except she couldn’t shake the thought that it wasn’t just sex, as though the magic music had burrowed deep and unearthed some sort of _feelings_ she had for Spike.  
  
_“A thousand contradictions  
Are stirring in my soul  
They seem to grow in me  
Overflow in me”_  
  
Spike gripped the metal railing hard enough to bend it. _“In spite of my convictions, I’m losing my control.”_  
  
_“I’m slightly shocked inside,”_ Dawn completed the bridge, off in her own world in the corner. _“Keep it locked inside.”_  
  
Then, as the music surged, all three were swept up in unison, each unaware of the others’ singing, even as their voices mingled and harmonized.  
  
_“Unspoken, unexpressed  
Still it’s louder than a symphony  
Can no one hear what my heart seems to shout?  
Perhaps they do not notice it  
Though it’s as plain as day  
I’m trying not to notice it  
But it won’t go away”_  
  
As the accompaniment faded out, they cast furtive glances around the shop, trying to ascertain whether anyone had noticed anyone else singing. No one had. With a fair amount of fidgeting, nervous coughing, and throat clearing, they settled back down to their work.

*****

Willow was halfway down the block before Xander managed to catch up. “Hey, Will… hey, wait up!”  
  
Instead of slowing down, she quickened her pace. “I don’t wanna talk right now, Xand.”  
  
“Too bad,” he replied, catching her arm and spinning her around to face him. “Look, Will, I know what you’re feeling… because I feel it, too.”  
  
“You have no idea what I feel!” she shot back, breaking out of his grasp. She started walking away again, but Xander was right behind her.  
  
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say guilt.” He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. “Am I right?”  
  
“No! Maybe,” she conceded. “But it’s not – it’s not just Buffy. I mean, yeah, all with the guilty feelings there but… it’s Tara, too.”  
  
“What about Tara?” He took her arm again, gentler this time, and led her toward the Espresso Pump where they could sit and talk.  
  
“She left. I – I mean, she said she couldn’t… be with me, and she’s moving out.”  
  
“Oh, Will, I’m sorry,” Xander breathed, giving her a brief hug before settling her in a chair and taking the seat opposite. “What happened?”  
  
“She – she said I’m using too much magic,” Willow sniffled, pulling several napkins out of the table’s dispenser and wiping her eyes.  
  
“Are you?”  
  
She seemed startled by the question. “Well, no, I… I just… It doesn’t hurt anybody!”  
  
“It hurt Buffy.”  
  
“But she’s alive! And we didn’t know she was in heaven! And I feel terrible, but I can’t be sorry that my best friend’s not dead. And Tara’s accusing me of – of… and we fought, and it was awful, Xander, and I just wanted it to be over, so I…”  
  
“You what, Will?”  
  
“I did a forgetting spell,” she mumbled. “So she wouldn’t remember the fight.”  
  
Xander leaned back in his chair, stunned. Before he could gather the words to speak, Willow went on. “I know I use a lot of magic, but I just wanna _help_. I _need_ to help.”  
  
“Who were you helping when you cast a spell on Tara?”  
  
She dropped her gaze to the crumpled napkins in her hand, which she was nervously tearing into strips. “Magic is… it’s what I do.”  
  
“It’s not all you do, Will.”  
  
“I know, but… I know I could fix this. All of it. Buffy, too, if I just –”  
  
“Willow.” His voice startled her into silence – a stern, commanding tone she rarely heard from big funny Xander. He captured her gaze and held it, daring her to look away. “Will, promise me you won’t do a spell to – to _fix_ Buffy. You won’t just… make her forget or anything.”  
  
Her eyes flicked down again. “But…”  
  
“Promise.”  
  
“I promise.” She lifted her head and met his eyes again. “I promise I won’t do a spell to fix Buffy.”  
  
“And Tara?”  
  
She shook her head. That much, at least, was true. But there had to be plenty of ways to fix things without actually casting a spell on the person in question, right?  
  
*****  
  
Having explained to Giles her concerns about Willow, Tara left the Magic Box. She didn’t think she could stomach sitting there, doing research with the gang as though nothing was wrong. She didn’t know where Xander and Willow had gone off to, but the Summers house was empty when she got there.  
  
She gazed around the room she’d shared with Willow for the past several months. They’d made it their home in the wake of tragedy, and yet they’d managed to fill it with so many joyful memories. All memories that now seemed bittersweet upon recall.  
  
Pulling a suitcase out of the closet, Tara began to empty the drawers of her belongings, reminiscing quietly.  
  
_“There was a time  
Our happiness seemed never-ending  
I was so sure  
That where we were heading was right  
Life was a road  
So certain and straight and unbending  
Our little road  
With never a crossroad in sight"_  
  
Gathering odds and ends from the dresser, she caught her reflection in the mirror. How had she become this sad creature who looked back at her? She closed her eyes and imagined the two of them, arms wrapped around each other, eyes dancing, grinning at her from the mirror, the very reflection of love.  
  
_“Back in the days  
When everything seemed so much clearer  
Women in white  
Who knew what their lives held in store  
Where are they now?  
Those women who stared from the mirror  
We can never go back to before”_  
  
Somehow, it had all changed. Willow had become a different person; she’d ceased to accept the world as it was and depended on magic to change it. Tara knew from her mother’s tutelage, that wasn’t what magic was for. It wasn’t meant to suppress emotions, or gloss over arguments. It wasn’t meant to be an easy fix for whatever was wrong in your life.  
  
_“There are people out there  
Unafraid of revealing  
That they might have a feeling  
Or they might have been wrong  
  
“There are people out there  
Unafraid to feel sorrow  
Unafraid of tomorrow  
Unafraid to be weak  
Unafraid to be strong”_  
  
Placing the last of her essential possessions in the suitcase, she closed it and zipped it shut. With a quick pass around the room, she decided she could come back for everything else. She pulled the suitcase off the bed, stopping to glance in the mirror one last time before leaving the room for good.  
  
_“There was a time  
When you were the person in motion  
I was your girl  
It never occurred to want more  
You were my sky  
My moon and my stars and my ocean  
We can never go back to before  
We can never go back to before”_

*****

When Xander and Willow came back to the Magic Box after their talk, they found the gang intent on researching Sweet. Willow silently took a seat at the table next to Buffy, sending her friend an apologetic glance before pulling one of the books towards her and delving in.  
  
Xander went behind the counter and slipped his arms around Anya’s waist, peering over her shoulder at the book she was reading. “That’s a funny-looking demon,” he remarked.  
  
Anya quickly shuffled her book, and the bridal magazine hidden inside it, as though she could convince her fiancé that she hadn’t been planning her wedding instead of researching.  
  
“Good to see you’re hard at work, sweetie,” he said, planting a kiss on her temple.  
  
“Well, I have a wedding to plan!” she replied. “And I don’t have a mother to do it for me, and _you’re_ certainly not interested! So, I’m sorry you’ve got a demon problem, but I have problems, too!”  
  
Dawn glanced up from her text at the ex-demon’s outburst. “Are things not working out like they’re supposed to?” she asked.  
  
“Oh, no!” Anya exclaimed, suddenly adopting an overly cheerful attitude as she spontaneously began to sing. “Why – _We couldn't be happier. Right, dear?”_  
  
Xander looked up, startled, a brief expression of panic on his face before he nodded assertively. Anya barreled on, not really paying attention to his response as she was swept away by the lilting melody.  
  
_“Couldn't be happier  
Right here  
Look what we've got  
A fairy-tale plot  
Our very own happy ending  
Where we couldn't be happier  
True, dear?”_  
  
She looked to Xander again, who gave her a timid smile.  
  
_“Couldn't be happier  
And we're happy to share  
Our ending vicariously  
With all of you”_  
  
She gestured magnanimously to the rest of them, encouraging them to join in her cheer. Other than Dawn, who perked up at the tune, the group just stared at her, still somewhat taken aback at the random bursting into song. Xander, for his part, was trying to look as excited as his fiancée while resisting the sudden urge to run out the door, when Anya suddenly spun around, pulling him into an embrace.  
  
_“He couldn't look handsomer  
I couldn't feel humbler  
We couldn't be happier  
Because happy is what happens  
When all your dreams come true!”_  
  
As the mystical trumpets played their final flourish, she planted a kiss on Xander’s lips and turned back to the group with a grin.  
  
“Right – ah, well… yes,” Giles stuttered, taking off his glasses and polishing them with relish. “But perhaps if we focused on research…”  
  
“Oh, what difference does it make?” Anya asked. “We’re not gonna find out any more about Sweet than we knew last night, right?”  
  
The others glanced around worriedly, realizing she had a point.  
  
“Ooh!” said Willow. “We do know one thing.”  
  
“What’s that, Will?” Buffy asked.  
  
“We know Sweet was summoned, right? Using that talisman Dawn had?”  
  
Xander groaned. “I said I was sorry, guys.”  
  
Willow shook her head, gaining excitement as she fleshed out the idea in her head. “No, that’s not it. What I’m saying is, we have the talisman. So we can summon him whenever we want.”  
  
“And whoever does it gets to play queen of the damned in the musical from hell,” Buffy pointed out, a note of doubt in her voice.  
  
“Not if we did a – a binding spell, or – or an entrapment spell, or something. We could keep him here, so Buffy could, you know, kick his ass until he makes the music stop.”  
  
Spike raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a bad idea. I think Red might be on to something.”  
  
“Ooh, hmm… ah, do we, uh, do we really need to do the whole spell thing?” Xander asked nervously, his eye on Willow as he recalled their earlier conversation. “I’m just saying, you know, magic is a very dangerous tool, and you never really know _what_ is going to happen.” He broke off in a self-conscious laugh. “Believe me, I know. So, maybe it’d just be best to, you know, stay away from anything too –”  
  
_“Boy, boy, crazy boy. Stay cool, boy.”_  Before Spike could stop himself, the riff from _West Side Story_ slipped out, snapping his fingers in rhythm. When he realized the others were looking at him, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh. That wasn’t the spell. I just like the, uh, gang violence,” he finished with a shrug.  
  
“Yes, well, I do tend to agree with Xander,” said Giles, before giving his glasses another furious polish. Remembering his own conversation with Tara, he was just as hesitant to encourage Willow in any further magic.  
  
“Do we have any alternatives?” Buffy asked.  
  
“Well, no,” Giles admitted. “Perhaps we should, ah, speak to Tara about this spell?”  
  
“I can handle this, Giles,” said Willow, an underlying icy tone to her voice.  
  
“I’m sure that you can. But you’re dealing with a spell that will violate the demon’s will, holding him involuntarily. Any mistakes could be quite disastrous.”  
  
“Fine,” said Buffy, eager to have a plan to get rid of Sweet. Hopefully, that would keep any more incidents like last night’s lapse of judgment from happening. “Then we consult with Tara, we do the spell, and I kick some serious tap-dancing ass.”  
  
“Long as that’s all right with Officer Krupke here,” Spike said, gesturing toward Giles.  
  
Buffy wrinkled her nose. “Who’s Officer Cupcake?”  
  
Spike rolled his eyes. “Okay, you’re seeing a musical. When this is over.” Buffy didn’t miss the implied date in that statement, but she thought it best to just let it go in light of the audience present.  
  
“When this is over, I don’t think I’m gonna ever want to see a musical again,” Dawn said, making a face.  
  
With a solution settled upon, the Scoobies gathered up their belongings and placed the books back on the shelves. Once the others had filtered out and they were the only two left in the Magic Box, Anya said, “Xander, sweetie, can we go over the seating arrangements for your –”  
  
“Sorry, Ahn, not right now,” he replied hurriedly, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before dashing out of the shop.  
  
Anya sighed, watching his retreating form, and began to sing again, more hesitantly, as though trying to convince herself.  
  
_“That's why I couldn't be happier  
No, I couldn't be happier  
Though it is, I admit  
The tiniest bit  
Unlike I anticipated  
But I couldn't be happier  
Simply couldn't be happier”_  
  
She paused in thought. “Well – not ‘simply,’” she said.  
  
_“’Cause getting your dreams  
It's strange, but it seems  
A little – well – complicated  
There's a kind of a sort of cost  
There's a couple of things get lost  
There are bridges you cross  
You didn't know you crossed  
Until you've crossed”_  
  
The swell of music accompanied a twirl up onto the stairs, one hand holding on to the railing, the other extended above her head, hitting the big moment with flourish. But then, as the music wound its way back to a tiny melody, she sank down on the step, deflated.  
  
_“And if that joy, that thrill  
Doesn't thrill you like you think it will  
Still –  
With this perfect finale  
The cheers and ballyhoo”_  
  
She stood up with renewed determination.  
  
_“Who wouldn't be happier?  
So, I couldn't be happier  
Because happy is what happens  
When all your dreams come true  
Well, isn't it?  
Happy is what happens  
When your dreams come true!”  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Buffy and Spike's song is ["As Long As You're Mine"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhpvB2ZF1PA) from _Wicked_.
> 
> 2\. Tara's song is ["Take That Look Off Your Face"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CWpvXvjhXrI) from _Tell Me On a Sunday_.
> 
> 3\. Willow's song is ["Once Upon a Dream"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzZ-XYnq4Lw) and ["I Must Go On"](https://youtu.be/abNJV7BPtkQ?t=52) from _Jekyll and Hyde_.
> 
> 4\. Buffy's song is ["Moments in the Woods"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SOPXo8PmdYs) from _Into the Woods_.
> 
> 5\. Xander's song is ["And the Money Kept Rolling In"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tVaH20Ic_A) from _Evita_.
> 
> 6\. Dawn, Spike, and Buffy's song is ["Trying Not to Notice"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J1XOt8b6_k8) from _The Woman in White_.
> 
> 7\. Tara's song is ["Back to Before"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gaL11b-Lcso) from _Ragtime_.
> 
> 8\. Anya's song is ["Thank Goodness"](https://youtu.be/4xSRCSXlaxM?t=106) from _Wicked_. It's a really long track; after the first "Couldn't Be Happier" section, skip to about 4:00 for the second part.


	2. Chapter 2

Spike sensed her before he saw her.  
  
He was in the upper level of his crypt with the refrigerator door open, his head bent to inspect its contents, when he felt the tingle go down his spine. The tingle that could only mean her. He let the packet of blood in his hand drop back onto the shelf as he straightened, closing the refrigerator door.  
  
As if on cue, the door to the crypt burst open, and her scent wafted towards him. “Knew you couldn’t stay away,” Spike said, smirking to himself without looking at her.  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
Buffy closed the door and took a few tentative steps towards the vampire. “I didn’t come here for –” She stopped abruptly, and he finally turned to face her, a knowing look on his face. Spike was wearing a black button-down shirt that he’d been too lazy to button, and he ran one hand slowly down his bare chest, watching her eyes follow the path down to the bulge in his jeans.  
  
Her gaze lingered there for a moment, then flickered angrily back to his face. “Shut up!” she said again, even though he hadn’t spoken. “I came to ask you a question.” She pulled out a stake. “And if I don’t get the right answer…”  
  
Spike held up his hands in a protest of innocence. “No need for that, pet. What d’you wanna know?”  
  
“The chip isn’t working, is it?”  
  
“The…” His head tilted with curiosity, and he squinted at her. “What are you –”  
  
With one hand on his chest, she slammed him back into the wall, her other arm raised threateningly, stake aimed at his heart. “It’s not working. It can’t be. The things we did last night…”  
  
Buffy couldn’t believe that it had taken her this long to realize it. He had touched her and her brain had just… shut down. Had stopped processing everything except the feel of his fingers and his lips, and the beautiful pleasure they were coaxing out of her. Afterwards, she’d had so many things on her mind – including the “why” of the sleeping with Spike – that she’d neglected the “how.” But the things she’d let him do to her…  
  
“Baby likes it rough.” Spike licked his lips and glanced down at her hand resting on his chest, where his milky skin was littered with nail scratches and bruises from their rough play.  
  
Recovering herself, Buffy shoved him harder against the wall, scraping his shoulders against the stone. “There’s no way the chip wouldn’t have gone off.”  
  
Spike smirked at her, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. “Only one way to find out, pet.”  
  
He suddenly vamped out, throwing her off of him and sending her into the ratty chair in front of his TV. Buffy rolled over it and landed on the floor with a thud, her stake coming to a stop a few feet away. “Guess you’re right, Slayer,” he said with a grin, looking decidedly not in pain, and seeming like the old Spike – the one who’d tried to kill her – more than ever. “It doesn’t work.”  
  
They both lunged for the stake, but Spike got to it first and caught Buffy by the wrist. “Ah, ah, ah, love. Let’s not be hasty now.”  
  
She tore her arm from his grasp, her eyes glaring daggers at him. He just shrugged and moved past her, tossing the stake into the pile of weapons already in the corner. “For all we know, it could just be you,” he said, returning to his human face. “Maybe you came back wrong or something.”  
  
Spike walked casually around the crypt, radiating confidence and utterly unconcerned about the potential danger. He knew she wouldn’t kill him, not after last night. She’d been so hot for him, begging him to make it hurt. Hell, considering what they’d done, a little fight to the death was just foreplay.  
  
She spun in place as he paced, trying to keep her eyes on him. “There’s nothing wrong with me!”  
  
“Oh, so you wantin’ to kill yourself, that’s nothing to worry about?”  
  
“That was – that’s different.”  
  
“Could do it for you, I suppose, now the chip’s no problem.” He grabbed her suddenly by her upper arms and pulled her in close. “Do you want me to, Slayer?” He wouldn’t, of course – those days were long past – but now he knew the violence turned her on as much as it did him.  
  
Her mouth went dry, and her words were barely above a whisper. “I – I want you…”  
  
He could hear her heart going a mile a minute, could smell the arousal she felt with his body pressed against hers. He smirked. “Do you now, Slayer?” He dipped his head, running his tongue along the pulsing vein in her throat.  
  
Jerking herself free, Buffy snapped, “Stop it! I told you, this isn’t about –”  
  
With preternatural speed, Spike was behind her, and her protest died on her lips as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. The weight of it was heavy yet gentle – no longer threatening, but beckoning. She stilled, stiffening under the suddenly sensual touch, as he slowly slid his hand along her collarbone and up her neck, sending tingles coursing through her entire body.  
  
Pressing his palm against the nape of her neck, Spike circled around until he was facing her. “Buffy,” he murmured, in a voice that urged her to give in to all her wicked desires.  
  
She began to sing in a mournful tone, her voice tentative, the lack of accompaniment making every inflection stand out against the silence.  
  
_“I feel your fingers  
Cold on my shoulder  
Your chilling touch  
As it runs down my spine”_  
  
A harp arpeggio faded in, and Spike slid his hand up to tangle in Buffy’s hair, locking his eyes on hers as she sang to him.  
  
_“Watching your eyes  
As they invade my soul  
Forbidden pleasures  
I'm afraid to make mine”_  
  
Hand still fisted in her hair, Spike pulled her towards him. His other arm wrapped around her waist, sliding down to her ass to press her lower body forcefully against his. The kiss was firm and passionate – but brief, as Buffy broke out of his embrace, whirling into a half-dancing spin that sent her across the crypt. When she picked up the melody again, there was a note of desperation in her voice.  
  
_“At the touch of your hand  
At the sound of your voice  
At the moment your eyes meet mine  
I am out of my mind  
I am out of control  
Full of feelings I can't define!”_  
  
Spike followed her with measured predatory strides, as she backed away from him in a slow motion game of cat and mouse. _“It's a sin with no name,”_ he sang.  
  
_“Like a hand in a flame,”_ Buffy continued.  
  
_“And our senses proclaim…”_  
  
As he reached her, they sang in unison, _“It's a dangerous game.”_  
  
Spike circled around Buffy possessively, letting his fingertips brush down her bare arms, causing goose bumps to break out across her skin. She shivered as his voice growled in her ear.  
  
_“A darker dream  
That has no ending  
That's so unreal  
You believe that it's true”_  
  
Standing behind her once more, Spike gripped Buffy’s upper arms, hard enough to leave bruises. She tilted her head back and to the side, unconsciously exposing her neck to his hungry gaze.  
  
_“A dance of death  
Out of a mystery tale  
The little Slayer  
Doesn't know what to do”_  
  
He released her with force, spinning her around, and they began to circle each other with graceful steps, their dance mimicking so many of their battles. Their eyes fixed warily on one another, but burned with an unfulfilled passion as Spike continued to taunt her, Buffy’s anguished responses overlapping with his.  
  
_“Will the ghosts go away?”  
“No…”  
“Will she will them to stay?”  
“No…”  
“Either way, there's no way to win!”  
“No…”_  
  
She charged forward then, slamming into his chest with both hands, as their vocals reversed roles.  
  
_“All I know is I'm lost.”  
“Oh…”  
“And I'm counting the cost.”  
“Oh…”  
“My emotions are in a spin.”  
“Oh…”  
“I don't know who to blame.”  
  
“It's a crime and a shame,”_ Spike returned, pulling her roughly into his arms.  
  
Buffy inclined her head, her forehead nearly touching his. _“But it's true all the same…”  
  
“It's a dangerous game,”_ they sang together. Spike brushed a strand of hair out of Buffy's face, following the line of her jaw and trailing down her neck. At her shoulder, his grasp became strong again, forcing her backwards against the wall. Her arousal at the dominating gesture flooded his senses.  
  
_“No one speaks,”_ they continued in unison, their eyes never leaving the other’s face. _“Not one word.”_  
  
He lifted her slightly, pinning her between his body and the wall. Buffy responded by wrapping her legs around his waist, as her arms locked around his neck. _“But what words are in our eyes.”_  
  
Spike’s hands made their way up her thighs, creeping under her skirt and fumbling with his own jeans as Buffy sang and he echoed her words back to her in alternating rhythm.  
  
_“Silence speaks  
Loud and clear  
All the words we (don't) want to hear!”_  
  
Even as Buffy added the “don’t,” a nominal protest, she was sliding down onto Spike’s waiting erection, filling her up with a jolt of delicious pain. He pressed the full length of his torso against hers, fucking her hard into the wall, slamming her body roughly into the stone with every thrust.  
  
_“At the touch of your hand  
At the sound of your voice  
At the moment your eyes meet mine  
I am losing my mind  
I am losing control  
Fighting feelings I can't define”_  
  
Buffy clutched at him – his shoulders, his hair, whatever she could get her hands on – in a frantic scramble to hang on before the impending fire consumed her. _“It's a sin with no name,”_ she panted, nearly in tears from the overwhelming sensations.  
  
_“No remorse and no shame,”_ Spike returned, twisting his hips slightly to strike something deep inside her that made her burn with unquenchable desire. _“Fire, fury and flame.”  
  
“’Cause the devil's to blame.”_ Buffy’s voice hit an urgent peak.  
  
_“And the angels proclaim,”_ they finished together, voices soaring. Shifting to game face, Spike sank his fangs into her pulsing throat. Buffy threw her head back, the orgasm hitting her with the force of a freight train, her spasming channel coaxing Spike to a violent final thrust as he came inside her. He took only a quick pull at her blood, more to mark her than anything else, then let his forehead fall against the stone next to her face.  
  
Their bodies stilled, held up by the wall and Spike’s rapidly weakening knees, as they whispered, _“It's a dangerous game.”  
  
_ *****

Spike watched Buffy’s chest rise and fall, lifting the sheet that covered the two of them in a slow steady rhythm. She was exhausted. For that matter, so was he – he’d fucked her over every square inch of his crypt, or so it seemed, and once they’d made it to the bed, they could barely move. He’d no sooner slipped a finger inside her, careful of the swollen and bruised flesh, before her breathing became shallow and even, her eyes closed, her expression sated and peaceful.  
  
With a contented sigh, he kissed her brow and settled in beside her, cocooning her with his body. But it was impossible to sleep when all he wanted to do was look at her, drink her in, the goddess that had somehow found her way to his bed.  
  
Spike had expected to be dust for sure, after biting her in the throes of passion. But Buffy had been more interested in letting him stake her, in a manner of speaking. The rest of the night, whenever he had the chance, he would run his tongue over the mark he’d left, causing her to moan every time. Once, when he had her on the brink of climax, she had tangled her fingers in his hair and pressed his face into her neck, as though encouraging him to do it again.  
  
He hadn’t.  
  
Spike wasn’t about to push his luck. He was quite content to have tasted her once. Especially since Buffy was letting him touch her and kiss her, opening herself up for him, letting him inside her. Letting him make love to her – that was more than he’d ever dreamt of.  
  
Suddenly, Buffy began to thrash, kicking him under the covers as she clawed at the sheet with her hands. She let out a moan, unlike all the others that evening, laden with fear and panicked desperation.  
  
“No,” she gasped, shoving him away and pushing the covers off as if she were trying to escape from something. It occurred to him that she was dreaming about being dragged out of heaven and waking up in her coffin, scratching and crawling her way to freedom. Her living nightmare that had become reality.  
  
“Shhh,” he soothed, pulling her struggling form back against him as he wrapped her up in his arms, pressing a trail of soft kisses along her bare shoulder until she quieted again.  
  
“My poor Buffy,” Spike murmured against her skin, running one hand up and down her arm in a soft caress. He wanted more than anything to take her pain away, but he couldn’t help the hurt that seeped in at the notion that their coupling was simply a product of her suffering. _This isn’t real, but I just want to feel,_ she’d sung to him. Was he just a release? Just a means to end the numbness she’d felt since her return? If that were all he was to her… well, he would accept it, because he loved her more than anything. He would be what she needed, regardless of the cost, no matter how much it killed him inside. But he longed to be so much more.  
  
_“Lost in the darkness  
Silence surrounds you  
Once there was morning  
Now endless night  
  
“If I could reach you  
I'd guide you and teach you  
To walk from the darkness  
Back into the light”_  
  
He was a fool, a damn fool. He could never be the one to show her the light, and being with him would only pull her further into the darkness. Spike cursed his vampiric existence as he never had before, frustrated that his demon couldn’t give him the right answers. Buffy was always the one with the answers; she’d been his conscience for over a year, even when she was gone. Now, she could barely guide herself, and both of them were floundering.  
  
“I need you, Buffy,” he whispered. “Do whatever I can for you, pet, but I need you to be who you are.  
  
_“Deep in your silence  
Please try to hear me  
I'll keep you near me  
Till night passes by”_  
  
He knew she would leave him as soon as she woke, just as she had last time. It nearly killed him, but he couldn’t help loving her. He was hers, completely, and no amount of hurt could drive him away.  
  
_“I will find the answer  
I'll never desert you  
I promise you this  
Till the day that I die”_  
  
As the music faded out, he resumed his vigil over her sleeping form. Sometime later – minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell – Buffy began to stir. Rolling towards him, her eyes flickered open and she gave him a sleepy smile. “Is it morning?” she mumbled.  
  
“Yeah, pet,” he said softly. “It is.”  
  
She propped herself up on her elbows. “I should go. I left Dawn all night again.”  
  
He leaned over her and pulled her into a gentle kiss, as his fingers ran through her hair and his tongue made love to her mouth. Buffy melted into it, falling back on the pillow and snaking her arms around him. Running her hands over his muscular back, she left hot trails on his skin, lighting him on fire with her touch. When she finally needed to breathe, he released her mouth, nuzzling her face as he kissed along her jaw and down to her neck.  
  
“Buffy…”  
  
“Don’t,” she whispered.  
  
He pulled away to meet her eyes with surprise. “Buffy, I –”  
  
“Shh. You’re going to say you love me.” She traced her hand down the side of his face. “Please, don’t.”  
  
He rolled off and flopped onto the bed next to her, annoyed and disappointed. “Why not? Didn’t take issue with it last night.”  
  
She sat up and twisted to face him, supporting herself on one elbow. “There were a lot of things I didn’t take issue with last night.” Her fingers came up to the bite. “I should stake you for this.”  
  
“You won’t.” His tone was petulant.  
  
“No,” she said gently. “I won’t. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you could have. And I need you, Spike. I need _this._ But – look at me.” She tried to pull his face in her direction. He fought her at first, before turning his head. “But I can’t say something I don’t mean.”  
  
“You don’t have to say it, Buffy.”  
  
She gazed at him, taking in the heartbreak and resignation etched on his face. She couldn’t explain to him how much it hurt her to not say it back to him, when he was so sweet and gentle and loving. But she couldn’t love him – she just couldn’t let herself fall that far.  
  
They’d been right last night – it _was_ dangerous. Buffy knew that from experience. As much as she needed what Spike could give her, she couldn’t let it be love. She gave him a sad, tentative smile and kissed his brow before slipping out of bed.  
  
He watched her dress again with a sigh, but with less of the painful ache in his chest that had accompanied this scene the previous morning. At least she’d come back. She had come back and spent another night with him, and even the chip’s failure didn’t chase her away. Whatever she felt for him, she admitted she needed him. And that was all his cold, dead heart needed to feel like it was beating again.  
  
“You gonna tell the others?” he asked, as she donned her clothes. “’Bout the chip, that is.”  
  
“No!” Buffy stopped, half-naked, and stared at him, a horrified expression on her face. When he didn’t seem to get it right away, she hissed, “Because then I’d have to tell them how we found out!”  
  
Spike raised his eyebrows at her and let out a low chuckle. “Could just tell ’em I hit you.”  
  
“Oh. Yeah. I – I guess that would… yeah, then. Yeah, I’ll tell them. Tonight. Scooby meeting.” She turned to go, her gut roiling with guilt that she would have kept the knowledge from her friends in order to protect her sordid secret sex life.  
  
“Hey, you talk to the good witch?” he called after her. “She gonna do the spell?”  
  
“Yeah,” Buffy replied. “We’re doing it tonight, at the Magic Box.” She started to walk away again, heading for the ladder leading upstairs, but turned back. “Spike?” she said, her expression vulnerable. “You’ll be there?”  
  
“Always be there, pet.”  
  
Buffy hesitated then nodded before disappearing up the ladder.  
  
*****

“Honey, I need your input on the gifts.”  
  
Xander paused in puzzled silence for a moment – still holding the jar of frog parts he was using to restock the shelves – before turning to his fiancée. “Gifts? It’s our wedding, Ahn. I’m pretty sure gift-giving is a job for the guests.”  
  
Behind the counter, Anya rolled her eyes at his obtuseness. “It’s customary for the bride and groom to give a small token to the members of their wedding party,” she explained patiently. “As a thank you for putting up with them during the months of planning.”  
  
“Gifts.”  
  
“Don’t look at me like that,” Anya replied. “These are your human traditions.” She shook her head. Humans could be so strange about their customs. “So, I was thinking gold cufflinks for Giles and Spike, maybe with an engraving –”  
  
“Whoa, whoa, whoa – Spike?” Xander set down the jar and stared at her.  
  
“Yes. You know, blond, muscular, about this tall…” She held her hand up just above her head. “Recently saved Buffy from dancing herself to death.”  
  
“I know who he is, Ahn,” Xander snapped, striding over to her. “When did he get invited, much less in the wedding party?”  
  
“Right around the time he saved Buffy from dancing herself to death,” she replied matter-of-factly. “And you don’t have any male friends, so I just assumed he would be your best man.”  
  
“No! Ahn! Willow! Willow is the best man… best – woman…” Unable to let it go, he repeated, _“Spike?”_  
  
“Fine,” Anya replied, dismissing him with a wave. “So, for the women I was thinking –”  
  
“Ahn, no,” he cut in, holding up one hand. “We can’t afford this.”  
  
“But it’s tradition!”  
  
“Our friends won’t care! Anya, my parents are spending way too much on this wedding as it is. I can’t ask them for anything else.”  
  
“But –”  
  
“We don’t have the money!” Hs hand slammed down on the counter, and suddenly his memory transported him back to his parents’ house. He was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing with a toy truck, careful not to get between his father on the couch and the television across the room. His father liked to watch TV after dinner, and Xander knew better than to interrupt, no matter how much he wanted his father to play with him.  
  
Especially nights like these, when his mother was just as drunk as his father and they’d been yelling at each other all through dinner. Even now, with the table cleared and his father settled on the sofa, the argument was still going on while his mother did the dishes in the kitchen.  
  
Just as he always did when his parents raised their voices, Xander kept to the corner, trying to make himself as small as possible. If he didn’t stay out of the way, he could very well find his father’s wrath turned on him. He dreaded those moments when his father’s eyes turned on him, when his hands would go to his waist, stripping off his belt and beckoning Xander to him. Every time he felt the sting of the leather on his bare flesh, Xander swore he’d be good from then on. But it didn’t seem to matter. Sometimes, even when he hadn’t done anything, if his father was angry, he got hit. That was why he hid. If his father didn’t notice him, he’d be okay.  
  
Of course, this time, hiding might not do any good, since they were fighting about him.  
  
“It’s only for two weeks,” his mother persisted, hovering in the doorway that led to the kitchen as she dried her hands on a dishtowel. “And it’ll be good for Xander. He could make some new friends.”  
  
“It’s not my fault the boy doesn’t have friends, Jessica!” his father snapped. “If he didn’t hang around with that damned girl all the time – the Jew-girl with the hippie name – maybe he’d toughen up and the other boys would want him around.” Unnoticed, Xander flinched at his old man’s disapproval. “I’m not paying for some goddamned baseball camp just to try to make a man out of him. He can come to work with me this summer.”  
  
His mother scoffed, made more brazen by the wine she’d had with dinner. “You mean you’re actually going to get a job? Could’ve fooled me. With all the time you’ve been spending at the Fish Tank, I didn’t realize you’d had time for an interview!”  
  
“I told you, woman, Jimmy’s gonna get me something at the plant!” he said with an angry snarl, leaping off the sofa with his hands balled into fists at his sides. Xander cowered further into the darkened corner, pretending to be absorbed with his Tonka. He was still young, not yet at the age when he would start stepping in and taking the blows for his mother, until he came to realize that she provoked her husband when she was drunk, and Xander decided she got what she deserved.  
  
“Yeah, just like the last three jobs Jimmy was gonna get you that all fell through.” His mother marched unsteadily to the sofa and smacked her husband with the towel. “Why couldn’t you have gone to college and made something of yourself?”  
  
Xander trembled as he watched his father grab his mother’s arm and shake her. He drew his hand back to slap her, and then the scene shifted again, and Xander was watching older versions of himself and Anya in their places.  
  
“You think I’m not educated enough?” the salt-and-pepper-haired Xander demanded, as his wife reeled from the blow. “You knew that when you married me, Ahn.”  
  
“Well, that was before the Magic Box was destroyed by that pack of Ratnall demons and we lost everything!” she cried. “And the construction was bringing in decent pay –”  
  
“You know I can’t do that anymore, not with my back!”  
  
“Right, and whose fault was that?”  
  
“Don’t start!” he ground out, knocking her back through the kitchen doorway.  
  
“If you hadn’t been trying to be a hero and help Buffy all the time –”  
  
Xander slammed his hand into a kitchen cabinet right next to her head, frightening her. “ _Don’t_ make this about Buffy!”  
  
Suddenly back in the present, Xander blinked and said, “Huh? What about Buffy?”  
  
Anya let out an exasperated sigh. “I _said,_ do you think Buffy will be bringing a date? I’d like to know before I do the seating chart; otherwise, it’ll throw the whole thing off.”  
  
“Oh, uh… I don’t know,” Xander replied, distracted. “Why don’t you ask her?”  
  
With a frustrated shake of her head, Anya wandered away from her useless fiancé, leaving him to sing softly to himself, horrified by the things he imagined.  
  
_“I’m not ready for you to be my bride  
I keep pretending, but I just can’t hide  
I know I said that I’d be standing by your side  
But I…”_  
  
He shuddered, seeing again his past merging with his future in his mind. The possibilities terrified him, paralyzing him with anxiety and indecision.  
  
_“Our path’s unbeaten, and it’s all uphill  
My father haunts me, and he always will  
That’s the reason that I’m standing still  
But I…”_  
  
He watched as Anya began talking animatedly with Willow, who had just come into the Magic Box. Willow nodded, her eyes glazing over, the way most of his friends reacted when Anya went into super-bride mode. Whenever Xander heard the wedding talk now, he wanted to run in the opposite direction. Not that he didn’t love Anya – he did, with all of his heart and soul – but it filled him with a cold sense of dread to know that he was diving headfirst into potential pain and misery, the same as he’d seen his parents suffer through. They’d drowned their sorrows in booze. Would he do the same?  
  
He was already spending more time with the guys from the construction team, leaving the site after work and heading straight to the bar, then stumbling home to Anya. She never got drunk like his mother did, though she sometimes raised her voice when he missed dinner. He didn’t want to end up like his parents, but the more he thought about it, the more he tried to push it away, the closer he came to becoming them.  
  
_“I wish I could say the right words and go on like we planned  
Wish I could play the husband  
And take you by the hand  
Wish I could stay  
But now I understand  
My fear’s standing in the way”_  
  
The door to the magic shop opened, and Tara entered hesitantly. Against her will, she immediately scanned the room for Willow, averting her eyes when her ex-lover tried to meet her gaze. She fought the rush of emotions that threatened to overtake her – she couldn’t stop loving Willow, no matter how hard she tried.  
  
_“I’m under your spell,”_ she sang softly to herself, reprising her song from the night she’d discovered the memory spell. No one else seemed to hear her, as Willow reluctantly returned her attention to the magazine Anya was holding in front of her face.  
  
_“God, how can it be  
You still have this effect on me?  
You worked your charms so well  
Willow, don’t you see  
You’ll always be a part of me  
You made me believe...”  
  
“Believe me, I don’t wanna go,”_ Xander chimed in, his first word overlapping with Tara’s last. Then, together, they sang,  
  
_“And it’ll grieve me ’cause I love you so  
But we both know”_  
  
They broke into counter-melodies, each lost in their own world, singing to their oblivious lovers.  
  
_“I wish I could say the right words and go on like we planned  
Wish I could play the husband  
And take you by the hand…”  
  
“Wish I could trust just that it was just this once  
But I must do what I must  
I can't adjust to this disgust  
We're done and I just…”  
  
“Wish I could stay,”_ they finished together, finding harmony though neither knew the other was singing.  
  
_“Wish I could stay  
Wish I could stay  
Wish I could… stay”  
  
_ “Oh, good, Tara’s here,” Anya said, startling them both out of their musical daze. “Tell me, what do you think of these flowers as the table centerpieces? Willow thinks they’re too big, and people won’t be able to see each other across the table. But isn’t the arrangement just lovely?”  
  
“I – uh,” Tara stuttered, her eyes flickering unbidden toward Willow. “I – I think W-Willow’s probably right,” she managed.  
  
“Oh,” Anya pouted. “Well, I’ll get Buffy’s opinion when she gets here. Where is Buffy, anyway? We can’t really do this spell without someone to do the pounding once the demon is summoned.”  
  
“Hey, did you guys hear the news?” Tara asked, taking a seat at the table while studiously avoiding the redhead on the opposite side of it. “Th-they found three more bodies last night – all spontaneously combusted.”  
  
Xander sighed. “I’m really glad we’re fixing this tonight. All these people keep… and I feel like it’s my fault.”  
  
“Well, you didn’t know what would happen, sweetie,” Anya reassured him. “I mean, how many musicals result in mass casualties?”  
  
_“Les Misérables,”_ Willow pointed out. _“_ _Chicago_. _”_  
  
“ _Sweeney Todd,”_ Tara added.   
  
“Oh, and  _Into the Woods._  Which makes sense; fairy tales are traditionally very violent,” Anya mused, beginning to change her mind.  
  
“Hey, guys?” said Xander. “Not really helping here.”  
  
“Sorry I’m late,” Buffy cut in, as she walked in the door. “I had to drop Dawn off at a friend’s house. I didn’t know how long this would take, so she’s spending the night.”  
  
“What do you think of these flowers?”  
  
Buffy backed away from the magazine that Anya shoved in her face. “I think they’re, um – pretty?”  
  
“Oh, excellent!” Anya exclaimed, glossing over Buffy’s hesitation. “That’s two votes for yes and two for no – and since I’m the bride, I think my vote should count more, so that means pretty flowers!” She happily circled the picture and folded down the corner of the page to mark it for future ordering. “Speaking of the reception, Buffy, are you bringing a date?”  
  
“Am I – huh?” she replied, distracted. “Where’s Spike?”  
  
“Oh, is Spike your date?” asked Anya.  
  
“Huh?” Buffy repeated, this time with wide eyes. “No! No, no, no… I just – uh, was wondering, um…”  
  
She breathed a sigh of relief when the bell on the front door signaled a new arrival. The sight of Spike, however, caused a combination of shivers and heated skin that completely undid her. As if she hadn’t already been tongue-tied enough. She wasn’t sure which was more frightening: the idea of telling everyone about his chip malfunctioning, or the fact that Spike’s mere presence was turning her insides to goo.  
  
“Hi, Spike,” said Tara shyly, but in a friendly tone that helped to break the tension. Willow and Anya echoed her greeting. Xander just rolled his eyes.  
  
Spike nodded his acknowledgement to the ladies. “Am I the last one?” he asked.  
  
“Giles is in the back, setting up the spell.” Willow gestured over her shoulder.  
  
Spike glanced over at Buffy. “Think you best call him out here, pet?” He fixed her with a defiant look, challenging her to tell the others about the chip. He refused to be afraid of the Scoobies’ undoubtedly negative reaction, but he was anxious to see what Buffy’s response would be. He knew Xander, at least, would immediately call for his head – preferably separated from his body – and he wanted to know if the two nights they’d spent together had truly bought him a reprieve. She hadn’t staked him as soon as she found out, which was a good sign, but he wouldn’t rule out the amazing sex as clouding her judgment a bit. Letting him live while faced with her friends’ disagreement was a different story.  
  
Buffy nodded hesitantly. “Yeah, uh, I’ll just… Giles!” she shouted.  
  
He hurried out of the training room. “What is it, Buffy?” he asked, with a slight hint of alarm.  
  
“Uh, hi?” She waved to him sheepishly. Giles shot her a disapproving look and folded his arms across his chest, letting his heart rate return to normal.  
  
“Uh, guys,” Buffy started. “There’s something, um… something…”  
  
Spike saw her hesitation and realized the awkward position she was in. So, he decided to make it easy on her by smacking Xander upside the head. The boy let out a startled exclamation, and Spike yelped in pain when the chip fired, zapping his brain as his hand connected with Xander’s skull. Buffy fell silent, shocked and now even more frightened by this unforeseen turn of events. As everyone else tried to figure out what had just happened, the Slayer felt a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  
  
Spike’s chip still worked.  
  
On humans.  
  
Spike’s chip still worked, but it didn’t work on her. That meant… that meant… She didn’t want to think about what that meant. She didn’t want to think about what she was now, in what non-human form she might have come back.  
  
As the pain passed, Spike processed what had just happened, and his eyes met Buffy’s with alarm. He’d only meant it as a joke, when he said that thing in his crypt about her coming back wrong. But maybe he’d been right after all. Maybe Buffy really did come back wrong. He shot a deadly glare in the direction of the witch who’d spearheaded the resurrection effort. What had she done to his girl?  
  
Before he had the chance to rip her throat out, Giles spoke up, trying to get them back on track after Spike’s bizarre behavior. “What was it you were saying, Buffy?”  
  
“Nothing,” Buffy said, after a moment’s hesitation. “It’s n-nothing.” She and Spike shared a meaningful look before she turned back to her Watcher. “Just, uh, everyone’s here. Let’s start the spell.”  
  
*****  
  
Buffy handed Tara the necklace she’d forced Dawn to relinquish, the one that would summon Sweet again. Tara put it on and stepped into the larger of two concentric circles drawn in red sand on the training room floor.  
  
“Now,” Giles said, explaining the process once more to the group. “Tara will conduct the spell from within the power circle. Once the demon is summoned, he should appear inside the inner circle – that’s the entrapment circle. He will be held there by the binding spell, but that does not mean the circle’s border is an impenetrable wall. Buffy will be able to enter it, to… extract information from this Sweet character. Do _not_ get too close to the circle. If you cross it, he  _can_ grab you, and I don’t want anyone getting hurt. Is that understood?”  
  
“What about Tara?” Willow asked, partly out of concern, but also with a hint of bitterness at not being the one chosen to do the spell. “Won’t she be vulnerable, being so close?”  
  
“She should be protected, as long as she stays outside the entrapment circle,” Giles assured her.  
  
“I can do this, Giles,” Willow insisted. “The two of us together would be –”  
  
“Tara alone will be sufficient, Willow,” he cut her off sharply. He gestured with one hand, and Buffy took up her position outside the circle, ready to attack when the time came. Wordlessly, Spike stepped up next to her. The others stayed back, fanned out across the room, a safe distance from where the spell would take place, but all within arm’s length of a weapon.  
  
Embarrassed by the argument between witch and Watcher, Tara glanced down at the text lying open on the floor in front of her and took a deep breath. She began to recite the spell, softly at first, her voice barely audible despite the silence that had fallen over the others. She wove the binding spell first, her words like threads, spinning an invisible web to ensnare the unsuspecting demon.  
  
Once that was complete, she turned to the summoning spell and began to chant steadily. She felt the magic swirling around her, reaching out across dimensions, sending out a signal. As the rhythm of her voice created a pulsing flow of energy, she suddenly noticed an inconsistency.  
  
Her eyes swept around the room, finding Willow, watching her lips move silently as she fed her own magic into the spell from outside the circle. Reaching out to her ex-lover through the mental connection they’d been developing, Tara said silently, **_‘Willow, stop.’_**  
  
Willow’s voice echoed back in Tara’s head. _**‘I can help. Let me just –’**  
  
**‘Willow, you’re not helping,’**_ Tara snapped, struggling desperately to maintain the rhythm while also counteracting Willow’s influence. _**‘You’re destabilizing the spell.’**  
  
**‘No, if you just hold that line, I can beef up –’**  
  
**‘Willow! Back. Off.’**_  
  
Tara gave her an angry stare, about two seconds away from dispersing the magical energy she’d gathered and ending the spell entirely. But by then it was too late, and a swell of music began to rise, signaling Sweet’s entrance. The spell spiraled out of control, as Willow and Tara struggled for dominance. Sweet suddenly appeared in the middle of the inner circle, and the music cut off in an abrupt discordance as he looked around, his face falling when he saw who had summoned him.

“You kids again?” he asked, annoyed. “I thought we were done here.”  
  
“Yeah? Well, you were supposed to take the song and dance show with you when you left,” Buffy retorted, unaware that the inner workings of the spell were in peril.  
  
“That wasn’t part of our deal, sweetie pie. I –” Sweet stopped speaking abruptly as he reached the edge of the binding spell and came to a halt. “What is this?”  
  
“Couldn’t risk you carting off someone to be your queen again, could we?” Spike replied.  
  
The demon gave him an appraising look. “Don’t worry, precious. It wouldn’t be you.”  
  
Spike found himself mildly offended by that. “Oh, yeah? Way I hear it, most of the boys in theater swing that way. Figure, with that suit, you gotta be one of ’em.”  
  
“Spike!” Buffy hissed. “Don’t taunt the demon.”  
  
“You were doin’ it.”  
  
“I pun, that’s totally different.” She turned back to Sweet. “Now we’re gonna bring the curtain down on this musical once and for all.” Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
Sweet just gave her a melodramatic pout. _“I gave you my music,”_ he sang sadly. _“Made your songs take wing. And now, how you’ve repaid me – denied me and betrayed me…”_  
  
“Oh, shut up,” Buffy replied. “If you’re not gonna make the singing stop, let’s just make with the pummeling, shall we?”  
  
She charged toward the demon, delivering a snap kick that knocked Sweet backwards against the far barrier of the circle. The force of it jarred Tara’s delicate hold, and before Buffy could get in a second blow, the binding spell collapsed.  
  
“Oh, God, what’d I do?” Buffy whimpered, as Sweet lunged out of the circle and grabbed the closest person – Tara. Too weak from the magic to fight back, she was thrown over his shoulder like a rag doll, struggling ineffectually.  
  
“Sorry, need a queen,” Sweet said.  
  
Buffy and Spike charged simultaneously, trying to tackle Sweet to the ground and save Tara. But the demon gave them a Cheshire cat grin, disappearing with the witch in a burst of light. Buffy and Spike collapsed on the ground in a heap as their target vanished. Sweet’s disembodied voice echoed in the room. _“Now, I gotta run. See you all in hell!”_  
  
Willow dropped to her knees. “Oh, God. He took Tara. Oh, God. Oh, God.” She covered her face with her hands. “It’s my fault.”  
  
“What the hell happened?” Xander asked, clutching Anya’s hand as Buffy and Spike got to their feet. They all looked stunned at the sudden turn of events. They could scarcely believe that, moments before, Tara had been in the room, and now she was being whisked off to who-knows-where in some horrible hell dimension.  
  
Giles watched Willow dissolve into a tearful mess. “I think I have some idea. Willow.”  
  
The young witch looked up at her name. “I was trying to help,” she said, painfully aware of how hollow those words were beginning to sound. “I just wanted to – I was trying to help.”  
  
“You interfered,” said Giles.  
  
She nodded. “Oh, God, Tara. I’m so sorry, baby. I’m sorry…”  
  
Buffy crouched on the floor next to her friend, wrapping her arms around Willow. “It’s okay, Will. We’ll get her back.”  
  
“It is not ‘okay,’ Buffy!” Giles said harshly. “Willow interfered with the spell, and now it’s caused us to lose Tara. God only knows where she is or how to get her back.”  
  
“We’ll figure something out, Giles,” Buffy replied, maintaining her confidence for Willow’s sake. “We’ll get her back.”  
  
“Well,” Anya said, cutting through the tense atmosphere with her usual matter-of-fact tone. “I guess that means more research.” Sparing a glance at the distraught Willow, she headed back to the shop with Xander in tow. Spike ducked his head and slipped out the back door.  
  
“Buffy,” Giles said, his voice soft but firm. She looked up at him, then back at Willow, and nodded. She rose and followed him to the shop, leaving Willow curled on the floor, sobbing as she repeated, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”  
  
*****

After an hour of fruitless, shell-shocked research, Buffy closed her book, giving in to the itchy, restless sensation crawling over her skin. She needed action. Announcing she was going to patrol, she left the Magic Box before anyone could object.  
  
It was no surprise to her that her feet, entirely of their own accord, carried her directly to Restfield and right to his crypt. She hesitated at the door, for some reason unwilling to kick it open as she normally did. She raised one tentative fist to knock, only to let it drop back to her side.  
  
Spike saved her from the indecision by opening the door and finding her standing there. “Shouldn’t you be off figuring out how to get the witch back?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he let her in.  
  
“I know, I should,” Buffy replied, a note of resignation in her voice. “But… it’s this music. It… it makes me do what I want, instead of…” She caught Spike smirking at her. “What?”  
  
“You want me.”  
  
“I…” She started to protest, but realized it was useless and rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah, I think we established that pretty well already. But I don’t love you. I do not, could not, _will not_ love you.”  
  
Spike cocked his eyebrow again at her insistence. _The lady doth protest too much,_ he thought to himself. Shakespeare had a fine bloody point. “Why do you keep coming back, then?”  
  
“Because I need this. I need to –” She cut herself off with a sigh, relenting but turning so her back was to him. It was hard enough, allowing herself to open up to him. She couldn’t look at him while she did it. “Since I came back, I’ve been… numb. Going through the motions.” A tiny, ironic smile stole over her face at the memory of her first song in the graveyard. “But I can’t – I can’t be the Slayer like that. I need my emotions. I need that fire to… do what I do.”  
  
“Hence the ‘dance till you burn’ routine.”  
  
“Yeah… but…” Buffy turned around to face him. “But you showed me that I… that I could live and still have that fire.” She reached out, pulling him towards her and capturing his mouth in a long, slow kiss. “This fire.”  
  
“So, that’s all this is, then,” Spike said, backing away. “You just needin’ to feel something.”  
  
“Yes!” she cried, but almost immediately corrected herself. “No!” Finally, she settled on, “I don’t know.”  
  
“Well, thanks for clearing that up.” He started to show her the door.  
  
“Spike!” She grabbed his arm. “Please…”  
  
He shook off her grasp, catching her gaze in an intense stare. “No. We have something, Buffy, you and me. I’ve known it since the first moment I met you.”  
  
“The first moment you said you’d kill me,” Buffy said dryly.  
  
“Well, yeah. _Vampire._ And after all the fighting and bloodshed, here we are, doing this.” This time, it was Spike who initiated the kiss, pressing his lips fiercely against hers, leaving her breathless. “It’s bloody epic, ’s what it is.”  
  
“I’ve done epic,” Buffy retorted. “Not interested in a sequel.”  
  
Spike scoffed at the reference to Angel, but didn’t say anything. He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment before saying, “You’re right, you used to have a fire.” One hand came up to caress her cheek. “I saw you and you burned brighter than any other Slayer I’d ever seen. And you made _me_ burn, Buffy. God, I’m still… and I see it, sometimes, even now. I see it in your eyes, when we’re making love.”  
  
“Don’t call it that!” she cried, jerking away from him. “It’s not –”  
  
“It _is_ love, Buffy! Wake up!”  
  
“I can’t love you,” she insisted. “I can’t… love.”  
  
She blinked, and they looked at each other, both startled by her admission. Before Buffy had a chance to process why she’d said it, the music was tugging the confession further out of her.  
  
_“There was a time when men were kind  
When their voices were soft  
And their words inviting”_  
  
“Buffy…” Spike started.  
  
She shook her head and continued to sing.  
  
_“There was a time when love was blind  
And the world was a song  
And the song was exciting  
  
“There was a time  
Then it all went wrong…”_  
  
As the mysterious music filled the crypt, Buffy moved, dream-like, to the center of the room. Spike took up a perch on the sarcophagus, her attentive audience.  
  
_“I dreamed a dream in time gone by  
When hope was high and life worth living  
I dreamed that love would never die  
I dreamed that God would be forgiving  
  
“Then I was young and unafraid  
And dreams were made and used and wasted  
There was no ransom to be paid  
No song unsung, no wine untasted”_  
  
The music hit a dark minor chord, and Buffy suddenly changed, the peaceful expression on her face filling with anguish as sweet memories clouded over, becoming painful ones.  
  
_“But the tigers come at night  
With their voices soft as thunder  
As they tear your hope apart  
As they turn your dream to shame”_  
  
As Spike watched and listened with rapt attention, she moved to a pillar, extending one hand to caress the stone as though it were a lover.  
  
_“He slept a summer by my side  
He filled my days with endless wonder  
He took my childhood in his stride  
But he was gone when autumn came”_  
  
Buffy spun around, pressing her back against the pillar as though it were holding her upright, an expression of longing on her face.  
  
_“And still I dream he'll come to me  
That we will live the years together  
But there are dreams that cannot be  
And there are storms we cannot weather”_  
  
Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, building to the climax of the song.  
  
_“I had a dream my life would be  
So different from this hell I'm living  
So different now from what it seemed  
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed”_  
  
With the last line, the energy, driven by pain and heartbreak, seemed to go out of her, seeping away as she slid down the pillar to crouch on the floor, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.  
  
Spike stared at her for a minute, his throat tight with emotion, before he let a noise of bitter disgust escape from him. “So, it’s all about Angel, then,” he said. “You’d rather be with your precious Angel.”  
  
Buffy scrambled to her feet. “No, it’s just… Look, I know it’ll never work with Angel. I know that.” She tried to meet his eyes, but the disappointment she found there pierced her heart. “And he was – he was that once in a lifetime thing, you know? If I couldn’t make it work with him, how can I make it work with anybody?”  
  
“Because Angel was bloody stupid, that’s how!” He shoved off the sarcophagus to pace angrily around the crypt. “You’ve got him all up on some pedestal, pet. Trust me, he doesn’t deserve it. Angel and Angelus – they’re the same person. You’re looking for some line of bloody demarcation that isn’t there! Angelus was always inside him, Buffy. He just learned to hide it better with the soul, is all.” His rant ran out of steam, and his shoulders sagged. His head tilted to the side, and he looked at her with a mixture of love and regret. “Can see he did a number on you, love. Hurt you so bad you think it’s not worth trying again.”  
  
“Maybe it’s not,” Buffy said quietly. “Riley wasn’t any different, in the end.”  
  
Spike cracked the tiniest smile. “You ever think maybe you’re just dating the wrong blokes?”  
  
“Oh, and you’re the right one?”  
  
He shrugged. “Could be. But you’ll never know if you don’t try. Let yourself go. Live in my world for a bit.”  
  
As he approached her, the music faded in again, soft and melancholy, enthralling her, beckoning to her.  
  
_“Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation  
Darkness wakes and stirs imagination  
Silently the senses abandon their defenses”_  
  
Spike reached out with one hand, running his fingers through her hair as he circled around behind her.  
  
_“Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor  
Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender”_  
  
He sang softly in her ear as his strong hand turned her head, guiding her gaze towards him over her shoulder.  
  
_“Turn your face away  
From the garish light of day  
Turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light  
And listen to the music of the night”_  
  
His hands slid down her arms, grazing her skin with his fingertips as the music built to a crescendo.  
  
_“Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams  
Purge your thoughts of the world you knew before”_  
  
His fingers intertwined with hers, bringing her hands up to her stomach as his arms wrapped around her waist.  
  
_“Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar  
And you’ll live as you’ve never lived before”_  
  
She did, closing her eyes, and letting the music wash over her, falling under the spell it wove.  
  
*****  
  
Far away, someone else picked up Spike’s song, a demon intent on seducing his prey.  
  
_“Softly, deftly, music shall caress you,”_ Sweet sang, trying to lull Tara into complacency and eradicate her fears and trembling. _“Hear it, feel it, secretly posses you.”_  
  
They were in a small wooden rowboat that seemed to move of its own accord, since neither of its occupants was using the oars. The bow cut through the thick mist that shrouded their surroundings in mystery. As they went on, Tara guessed they were on a lake, maybe underground, or in some sort of cave, but the fog and darkness effectively blotted out any land.  
  
Tara had no idea what dimension they were in. All she knew was that she had been in the Magic Box, and the next instant, they were standing on a small dock, with only a single torch illuminating their transport. She didn’t know why Sweet hadn’t just teleported them to the other side of the lake in the first place, but she supposed he liked the dramatic setting.  
  
Seated behind her, Sweet pressed his hands to Tara’s temples as he continued to sing to her. Her eyes flickered closed as foreign sensations washed over her.  
  
_“Open up your mind  
Let your fantasies unwind  
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight  
The darkness of the music of the night”_  
  
Tara felt herself relaxing against her will. She wanted to be tense; she wanted to be frightened, but she couldn’t fight the intensity of the music as it rolled over her, seducing her with its power. The gentle sway of the boat added a false sense of calm, like a mother rocking her child to sleep.  
  
_“Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world  
Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before  
Let your soul take you where you long to be”_  
  
The song crescendoed to its height as Sweet let his voice ring, resonating against the cave-like walls and rippling over the lake. Then, he paused, and Tara held her breath as the note echoed in the silence.  
  
_“Only then,”_ Sweet sang, softer and slower now, _“can you belong to me.”_  
  
Two demons, separated by time and space, singing in unison, as Tara succumbed to Sweet and Buffy melted into Spike’s arms.  
  
_“Floating, falling, sweet intoxication  
Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation  
Let the dream begin  
Let your darker side give in  
To the power of the music that I write  
The power of the music of the night”_  
  
As the music swelled into an instrumental, Buffy surrendered to her emotions, her lips finding Spike’s in a deep, bruising kiss. He clutched her protectively, possessively, as she poured into her kiss all the love she couldn’t admit she felt. Pressing her body intimately against his, Buffy found refuge in his arms, letting the euphoria wash over her in waves of pleasure as she tasted his sweet mouth and explored his body with her hands.  
  
Tara was jolted to alertness as the boat abruptly arrived at the far shore of the lake. She tried to resist as Sweet pulled her out of the boat, but found herself swept along by the music as he led her deeper into his underground lair. The cavern suddenly opened into a vast throne room, which glittered with bright lights and colors, in stark contrast to the place they’d just emerged from. Brilliant sunlight poured in through a row of windows across the room, dazzling Tara and prompting her to run across the room to peer out. Sweet let her go, and, looking down, she felt slightly as though she were in an M.C. Escher drawing, realizing they’d come out from underground only to find themselves at the top of a high tower, the tallest of a series of turrets and towers of a shimmery Emerald City-like castle.  
  
Stunned, she turned to stare at Sweet, who gave her a saucy grin. “Welcome to hell,” he said, not the slightest bit surprised by her disbelief. Escorting her with one hand, like the royalty she apparently now was, Sweet guided her to the opposite end of the long hall, where a pair of gold, jewel-encrusted thrones with red plush seats were positioned on a raised platform, beneath a draping red and gold canopy. Sweet seated Tara in the smaller queen’s throne and took his own place next to her.  
  
_“You alone can make my song take flight,”_ he sang to her. _“Help me make the music of the night.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Buffy and Spike's song is ["Dangerous Game"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RChMZ59iRzY) from _Jekyll and Hyde_.
> 
> 2\. Spike's song is ["Lost in the Darkness"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b1HwpyQPE14) from _Jekyll and Hyde_.
> 
> 3\. Xander's song is (obviously) a reprise of "Standing" from "Once More with Feeling" and his duet with Tara is a reprise of "Under Your Spell/Standing (Reprise)." Yes, it's a reprise of a reprise. 
> 
> 4\. Sweet's line is ["I Gave You My Music"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ITePRsglSXI) from _Phantom of the Opera_.
> 
> 5\. Buffy's song is ["I Dreamed a Dream"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3uFww9a3D4E) from _Les Miserables_.
> 
> 6\. Spike and Sweet's song is ["Music of the Night"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ltHlhjU55wY) from _The Phantom of the Opera_.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Will?” Xander peeked into the training room, where Willow was still crumpled on the floor. “We’re, uh, we’re going home now.”  
  
Willow didn’t stir.  
  
“We’re locking up,” Xander tried again. “Do you – do you want a ride home?”  
  
She shook her head silently.  
  
Xander sighed, leaving his perch in the doorway and coming to crouch next to his friend. “Will, sweetie, come on. You can’t stay here all night.” He tried to take her hand and pull her up, but she resisted him.  
  
“Tara…” she whimpered, running her fingers through the remnants of the sand circle on the floor.  
  
“Come on, Will. We’ll get her back, I promise. But you can’t just stay here.” He grasped both her arms and pulled her roughly to her feet.  
  
“I let this happen,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder as she collapsed against him. “I _made_ it happen.”  
  
Unable to argue, Xander just rubbed soothing circles on her back as he led her out to his car.  
  
*****  
  
There was a heavy sadness weighing on his shoulders as Giles unlocked the door to his hotel room. It tore at his heart to see his surrogate children so thoroughly broken, and he wondered how they had come to this.  
  
Tara was gone, possibly already trapped in another dimension. They had no idea how to get her back, if it was even possible.  
  
Willow was a mess, already too deep in her abuse of magic, and this could quite literally drive her over the edge. She was as lost to them as Tara, for she surely would not survive the loss of her lover. He feared for the girl he’d thought of as a daughter for years, whom he’d taken under his wing nearly as much as the Slayer he was charged with.  
  
But not enough.  
  
Pouring himself a glass of Highland Park with a shaky hand, Giles drowned his regrets in single malt scotch. He should have been more careful with her, should have monitored her progress more closely. She had advanced much too quickly, tackling vast, complicated spells before she’d mastered the simple skills. There were so many times he should have put a stop to it. The restoration of Angel’s soul. Her “will be done” spell. Teleporting Glory. Reversing Tara’s brain-sucking. Her recent telepathic abilities.  
  
And beyond all of that, if anything should have indicated to him that she needed to be reined in, it was the resurrection spell that brought Buffy back. He was foolish to think that she’d back down, that she would turn away from the path she was on. The budding witch was out of control, harnessing forces she could not comprehend.  
  
And then, there was Buffy.  
  
He still hadn’t gotten over her betrayal. All this time, she had been lying to him. The one person in the world she was meant to trust. She, above all of them, was his. The daughter he’d never had. He, the father she deserved.  
  
Or, so he thought.  
  
He would always carry the guilt of letting her die. No amount of argument, no convincing himself that this was the natural order of things, for Watchers to lose their Slayers, could persuade him that it was not his fault. Her return had been a miracle – his second chance as much as hers. But it was all a lie, for his precious Slayer could not trust him enough to tell him the truth. That was when he knew. She didn’t need him as a Watcher. She just wanted him as a crutch.  
  
He poured himself a second glass of scotch and pulled the plane ticket out of his jacket pocket. He stared at the words until they became meaningless, swallowing a mouthful of the whisky as the mournful, compelling intro music began to play.  
  
_“It’s not the end of the world if I leave her  
It just might seem so tonight  
It’s not the end of the world, it’s a blessing  
Mustn’t wait ’til it’s too late”_  
  
Really, this revelation about heaven was a blessing in disguise. If he hadn’t known, he might have lost his resolve, continued to stay, which would only further ingrain in Buffy the notion that Giles would always be there to fix her problems. No, this was good. He could leave, knowing he was doing the right thing.  
  
_“I’ve got to go away, it’s the best thing to do  
If I stay, she won’t stand strong  
It will do her good  
Even though she may think she’s upset  
She’ll forget”_  
  
He’d thought to leave her to teach her how to be independent. Now, it seemed she was teaching him a thing or two about independence. Perhaps he’d known all along, inside. After all, he was still living in a hotel, rather than searching for a new flat. It was as though he’d understood, intrinsically, that his Slayer was gone for good. Even resurrected, she had ceased to be his.  
  
He tilted his head back, draining the last drops of liquid from the glass before finishing his song with weary resignation.  
  
_“It’s not the end of the world to move on  
It’s not the end of the world ’til it’s gone”_  
  
*****  
  
“Hey, Ahn?” Xander said, lying in bed on his back, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“Mmmph?” Anya murmured sleepily, her voice muffled by his chest.  
  
“You think Willow’ll be okay?”  
  
Anya picked her head up and stared at him, and for a moment, he was afraid this would be another “jealous girlfriend” moment, where he wasn’t supposed to worry about his best friend because Anya was envious of his close relationship with another woman.  
  
Instead, she surprised him by saying, “Of course she’s not okay,” in her best “stupid male” voice. “She screwed up her magic and accidentally sent her girlfriend to a hell dimension. Which part of that did you think she was gonna be okay with?”  
  
Xander sighed. “None of it, I guess.”  
  
Anya snuggled closer to him and asked, “How would you feel if it were me?” Her tone of voice indicated that it was a rhetorical question, but there was still the sliver of doubt within her that wasn’t certain of the answer. Ever since their secret-spilling duet the other morning, the uncertainty had been gnawing at her belly. Maybe it wasn’t the breakaway pop hit she’d hoped for, but the song had made some valid points. She was terrified that he wouldn’t love her enough, that someday he would leave her because she embarrassed him, because she wasn’t pretty anymore, or because she couldn’t quite figure out how to be human. As much as she wanted to believe in true love and happiness, she had a thousand years’ experience that proved they didn’t exist.  
  
Xander’s breath caught in his throat at her question. She couldn’t be – was she – questioning him? Had he not concealed his treacherous thoughts as well as he assumed? No… she didn’t suspect, wouldn’t… because it was stupid. He would have to be crazy to leave her. He’d never been so in love; he’d never felt this way about any other woman before. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? He loved her too much to hurt her, to lead her, unsuspecting, into a future of hurt and regret. A little pain now would be better than the vast acres of pain that were sure to come.  
  
Pulling her tighter to him, he whispered, “If it were you, I definitely wouldn’t be okay.” And, despite the fears and doubts swirling around inside him, he meant it.  
  
*****  
  
Willow sat down on her bed, fighting the urge to just curl up and cry again. She was alone in the house – Dawn was sleeping over her friend’s house, and Buffy hadn’t returned for the third night in a row.  
  
“I have to get her back,” she said aloud, her eyes going over the shelves of books on witchcraft. There had to be some spell in there that could help Tara. Frantically, she pulled the books off the shelves, flipping through them haphazardly and discarding them in a heap on the floor when they proved to be of no use.  
  
Her panicky gaze focused on a protection spell, and she nodded her head rapidly, murmuring, “Yes… yes… okay…”  
  
She set the book on the dresser, her hands extended in front of her, palms up, her eyes fixed on her reflection in the mirror as she chanted.  
  
_“Eleka nahmen nahmen  
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen  
Eleka nahmen nahmen  
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen”_  
  
Her hands were trembling, and her thoughts were so scattered that it was impossible to summon up the concentration she needed. Shaking her head as though to clear her mind, she plowed on.  
  
_“Let her flesh not be torn  
Let her blood leave no stain  
Though they beat her  
Let her feel no pain  
Let her bones never break  
And however they try  
To destroy her  
Let her never die  
Let her never die!”_  
  
Willow took a deep breath, raking a frustrated hand through her hair and yanking on it before resuming her spell.  
  
_“Eleka nahmen nahmen  
Ah tum ah tum eleka nahmen  
Eleka nahmen nahmen  
Ah tum ah tum eleka… eleka…_  
  
“Ugh!” She broke off with an anguished, aggravated cry. _“What good is this chanting?”_ She slammed the book shut hard enough to rattle the odds and ends on the dresser.  
  
_“I don't even know what I'm reading  
I don't even know which trick I ought to try  
Tara, where are you?  
Already dead or bleeding?  
One more disaster I can add to my  
Generous supply?”_  
  
She grabbed the book and threw it on top of the pile already on the floor, shooting the pile a reproachful look, as though it were the books’ fault they didn’t have the right spells.  
  
_“Unlimited  
The damage is unlimited  
To everyone I've tried to help  
Or tried to love  
And, oh, Tara, you're the latest  
Victim of my greatest achievement  
In a long career of distress  
Every time I could, I tried making good  
And what I made was a mess!  
  
“No good deed goes unpunished  
No act of charity goes unresented  
No good deed goes unpunished  
That's my new creed  
My road of good intentions  
Led where such roads always lead  
No good deed  
Goes unpunished!”_  
  
She spun furiously, and then she caught sight of herself in the mirror again, eyes wide, her expression wild. The bottom dropped out of her voice, and the note she was holding hollowed. Her next lines were barely a whisper.  
  
_“Buffy  
Brought back from the dead  
Your memory,  
Tara!!”_  
  
As her lover’s name fell from her lips, her voice once again swelled to a frenzied volume, and she began to interrogate herself harshly in the mirror.  
  
_“One question haunts and hurts  
Too much, too much to mention  
Was I really seeking good  
Or just seeking attention?  
Is that all good deeds are  
When looked at with an ice-cold eye?  
If that's all good deeds are  
Maybe that's the reason why  
  
“No good deed goes unpunished  
All helpful urges should be circumvented  
No good deed goes unpunished  
Sure, I meant well  
Well, look at what well-meant did  
All right, enough – so be it  
So be it, then  
Let all of us be agreed  
I'm wicked through and through  
Since I cannot succeed  
Tara, saving you  
I promise no good deed  
Will I attempt to do again  
Ever again”_  
  
As she gritted out the words, she returned to the bookshelf, sweeping the remaining books onto the pile on the floor in a tantrum.  
_  
“No good deed  
Will I do again!”_  
  
When the shelves were empty and the background music faded, Willow sank down next to the pile in despair, a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t let it be. She couldn’t just leave Tara there. There had to be something… something she could do to help her. If she couldn’t save Tara – well, just the idea of continuing to practice magic, after it had cost her her lover, made her ill. But if she didn’t at least try, she’d never be able to live with herself.  
  
She gazed at the tomes littering the floor. They weren’t the ones she needed. There were more books at the Magic Box, but she couldn’t get them until morning.  
  
She couldn’t wait until morning.  
  
Glancing at the clock, she made a decision. It was the middle of the night, but what good was knowing a vampire if you couldn’t call him in the middle of the night, right? She snatched up the phone and dialed with shaky hands.  
  
“Hey, Angel… no, Buffy’s fine,” she assured him. She hesitated for a moment. “Could – could I talk to Lorne?”  
  
*****

“It’ll work,” Willow insisted, despite the skeptical expressions on her friends’ faces. “It has to work.”

Giles took off his glasses and studied her. “Willow, I understand you’re upset about Tara, but you must be reasonable about this. What you’re suggesting would require shifting dimensions and creating temporal folds. You know how dangerous that is, after Glory… Willow, if you’re wrong – if you’re off by just the tiniest bit – you could collapse dimensions!”

“I can do it! Look, I have equations.” She showed him the loose-leaf paper with her scribbled notes on it, including a few diagrams, lists of equations, and several clusters of what appeared to be nonsense words. “Angel’s people worked it all out.”

“You called Angel?” Buffy jumped in, hating her pathetic tone of voice but unable to stop herself. From his vantage point in the corner of the shop, separate from the others, Spike growled low in his throat.

“I called Lorne. He’s… well, he kinda works for Angel. And he’s a singing demon from another dimension, so I thought he might have some ideas.”

“And – this is what he came up with?” Giles asked, looking over Willow’s notes.

“Well, he knew of Sweet, and – and he thinks we could find his hell dimension, with these calculations here.”

Willow had spent the entire night on the phone, as Angel woke up his colleagues one by one. After Lorne came Wesley, who had advised her – and cautioned her – regarding several spells used to traverse dimensions, something they’d become familiar with earlier that spring. Then, Willow had been passed on to a spunky physicist named Fred who had worked through the equations with her, figuring out how to get to the right dimension using Lorne’s knowledge of Sweet.

Her phone bill was going to be monstrous, but by noon, they had a plan. It was dangerous, and there were any number of things that could go wrong, but Willow had enough drive and determination to make up for the lack of confidence.

The others didn’t have that luxury.

“Willow, you can’t possibly be serious about this,” Giles admonished her. “I mean, this is – this is extraordinarily perilous. You don’t possess the skills to –”

“Don’t possess the _skills_?” Willow stared at him incredulously. “Angel managed to do it just by reading from a book! Giles, I _raised_ the _dead_! I can do this.”

The two were so engaged in their argument that neither saw Buffy flinch at Willow’s words. Xander and Anya, too, were busy watching the fight, so that only Spike noticed her involuntary reaction. He gravitated toward her, lifting one hand to comfort her.

His touch was light and discreet, simply brushing the back of her neck with his fingertips, but the sensation sent tingles of desire down her spine. She closed her eyes, letting herself be enveloped by the warm glow his touch created within her. Then, she felt his fingers skate across her hip as his arm came surreptitiously around her waist, and the feelings inside her intensified, causing her to draw in a slight gasp.

Spike’s hand disappeared abruptly, and Buffy realized that conversation had ceased, and the others were looking at her curiously. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I, uh, need to hit something.” With that, she grabbed Spike by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the training room.

Once they were gone, Willow turned back to Giles. “Look, I know you don’t trust me, Giles. I know you think I’m arrogant and an amateur. But I made this mess, and you have to let me fix it!” She paused, choking back a sob. The truth was, she wasn’t even sure she trusted herself anymore. But Tara meant everything to her. “I have to get her back. Even if she never wants to see me again. I can’t live with myself, knowing this is my fault.”

Giles sighed. “I understand that, Willow, but you must think of the larger picture. What if your spell hurts even more of your friends? What if it damages the fabric of space and time? Willow, if you’re wrong, you could destroy the entire world.”

“Buffy was willing to destroy the world to save Dawn,” Willow said softly.

“And she died because of it.”

“Then, that’s what I’ll do,” she replied. “If I have to.”

*****

Shutting the training room door behind them, Buffy tossed Spike up against it, kissing him hard. Gripping her tightly, he spun them around, reversing their positions. He planted one hand next to her head while the other traveled downward, coasting over her soft breasts and taut stomach, finally nestling between her thighs. Arching into his touch, she pulled his head down to hers and desperately devoured his mouth. He ground his erection into her hip while his hand worked at her clit through the fabric of her pants, and he let out a moan as her hands fisted in his hair. She answered him with her own kittenish whimpers, his touch sending her spiraling higher and higher until she came crashing back to earth with the suddenness of her unexpected climax.

When they finally separated, both were breathing hard. Buffy smiled through her haze of pleasure; she liked the way she could make him forget he didn’t need to breathe. She had just pushed off the wall to pull him into her arms again when the door opened behind her. With lightning speed, Buffy threw an unsuspecting Spike to the ground, standing over him as though they’d been fighting.

“Buff?” Xander said, poking his head in the open door. “You okay in here?”

“Yeah,” she replied, conveniently out of breath, though for very different reasons than her friend would suspect. “We were just, uh – training.”

Xander raised his eyebrows. “Not that I don’t favor the Spike hittage, but he can’t hurt people. How does that –”

“It just works, okay?” Buffy interrupted quickly, as she and Spike exchanged a look. Neither was overjoyed at the reminder that Buffy apparently wasn’t entirely human. She extended a hand to help him to his feet as she asked Xander, “What’s going on out there?”

“Giles and Will basically had it out over her dimension-hopping plan. She stormed out in a huff, saying Giles didn’t care about Tara.” He sighed. “Ahn’s in there now, going over everything with Giles, trying to see if it’s even possible.”

Buffy nodded. “Spike and I are gonna go out and patrol.” Spike raised his eyebrows at the idea that she was deciding for him, but he didn’t object. “Let me know if you guys figure anything out.”

“Yeah, will do,” Xander said, giving the two of them one last suspicious look before heading back into the storefront.

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Spike, surprised to see his eyes flaring with furious sparks of yellow.

“Won’t be your dirty little secret, Slayer.”

“I know,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to soothe him, as he jerked away from her touch. “I just – I wouldn’t know how to explain it to them. That I’m –”

“Using me to scratch an itch?” he broke in bitterly. “Why not? Afraid they'll think less of you?” He sneered at her. “I only wonder, pet – would it be worse if you told them it was just sex, or if they thought you were in _love_ with me?”

Buffy stared at him, hurt, but also frightened by the question. She was pretty sure they’d be shocked, and maybe disappointed in her, if she said she was using Spike for sex. But ultimately, they’d understand. After what she’d been through – after what they’d put her through – they’d be able to forgive her for acting out like that.

But if she told them she loved Spike, it’d be the anti-Angel club all over again. Worse, because Spike didn’t even have a soul.

The problem was, the longer this went on, the harder it was to convince herself it was just about the sex. And that frightened the hell out of her.

“Well, I'm not,” she snapped back defensively, “so that's not an issue.”

He flinched as though she’d slapped him, and he said in a harsh, spiteful tone, “Right. How could I forget?”

There was such pain and depth of emotion on his face that Buffy softened immediately, her anger dissipating in the space of a second. “Look,” she said, in a gentler tone. “Once this singing thing is over, if I still… feel this way…”

“Then you'll tell them?” She couldn’t miss the note of hopefulness in his voice.

“I – I…” She stuttered, losing her nerve. “Spike, it’s been four days! I don’t know what to tell them – because I don’t know what this is yet.”

“You knew I loved you. Knew what you were getting into. If you’re not going to –”

“Spike, please,” she said, throwing up her hands. “Can we not do this now?”

Spike let out a disgusted sigh. “Right. Come on, then. Let’s just patrol, all right?”

*****

Spike refused all her attempts at conversation, leaving them to walk in frustrated silence as they made the circuit through the usual cemeteries. After they’d dusted five vamps with no more than instinctual grunts and barked commands between them, Buffy finally couldn’t take it any longer.

“Do you really think I came back wrong?” she asked timidly.

The question was enough to stop him in his tracks as he turned and stared at her. “What?”

“You can hurt me. That has to mean I’m not human, right? I came back wrong.”

Spike shoved his hands into his duster pockets and tipped his head back, studying the sky for a moment before he sighed and dropped his gaze back to her. “Don’t rightly know, pet. Guess you’d have to ask the witches – once we find Tara, that is.”

Judging by the expression on her face, she’d been hoping for more comfort than that. Spike made a face as he wrestled with himself over what to say. “Still smell human,” he offered. He lifted one hand and let it run down her bare arm. “Still feel human.”

Just as before, his touch sent tingles through her – only this time, it was a cold shiver of fear, rather than the heat of passion. “What if that’s why this is happening?” Buffy asked. “Us, I mean. What if… maybe I don’t have a soul anymore, and that’s why –”

“Bloody hell, Slayer. Of course you have a soul.”

“How do you know?” She looked up at him, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

That brought him up short. “Well – I don’t, really.” He met her gaze. “But I know _you_ , Slayer.”

“No, you don’t,” Buffy insisted. “Or you’d know that I’d never let myself love another vampire.” It was her first line of defense against Spike – pick a fight whenever he got too close. Distract him, drive him away, anything to keep him from sneaking into her heart the way he had been doing pretty much constantly for the past four days.

“Bollocks!” Spike growled, grabbing her by the shoulders and backing her into a tree. “I’m _not_ him, and you bloody well know it.” She stared at him, startled by the sudden violence, her eyes wide, but not with fear. It was almost funny, in a way – ever since she and Spike had been doing… whatever it was they were doing, she seemed to be spending a lot of her time with her back up against the wall.

“And what’s more – you’re with me, and it’s _because_ of what I am,” Spike went on, pressing himself against her, the tree bark digging into her spine. “Don’t try to deny it. Don’t tell me you don’t get off on it.” Just as he had in the Magic Box, one hand dropped to her crotch, where her pants were still damp from her last orgasm. He leaned in, so that his voice was a low rumble in her ear. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t come when I bite you.”

The way he said it, with his tepid breath on her neck and his fingers massaging her through her pants, it was almost enough to make her come right there. Then, he jerked his hand away, releasing her from his grasp as he backed up, leaving her panting with unfulfilled need.

“Go on,” he scoffed. “Tell me there’s anyone else in the world can do what I do to you.” She opened her mouth to protest, but the only answer she managed was a choking gasp. He nodded once, and when he spoke, his voice was quieter and less taunting. “No one understands you like I do, Slayer. Thing is, I don’t think you understand me.”

“You’re a vampire,” she replied, distaste evident in her voice as she pushed off the tree to stand on her own two feet. Now that his tone was gentler and he wasn’t playing on her rough sex kink, she was finding it easier to regain her defiance and avoid that whole “melting into jelly” thing that was _so_ inconvenient. “Evil, soulless killer. What more do I need to know?”

“So, that’s it?” he snapped. “You just write me off?” He lashed out angrily, swinging his fist but aiming at nothing. “What do you want me to do, Buffy?” he demanded. “You want me to get a soul? Is that what it'll take? Or will you just find another reason not to be with me?”

She stared at him coldly. “It's not like I'd have to look very hard.”

He froze, returning her gaze with a disbelieving stare of his own. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm, let's see,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest and tilting her head in thought. “You tried to kill me and all my friends on multiple occasions. Or, how about you murdered two Slayers – not to mention the _tens of thousands_ of innocent people you've killed. Are those good enough reasons?”

“No!”

Taken aback, Buffy said, “What?” She hadn’t really expected him to give in, but even he had to admit those were pretty good reasons… right?

“Yeah, okay, I tried to kill your friends,” Spike admitted, pacing in front of her. “But how many times have I saved their buggerin’ lives since then? Helped save the bloody world, didn’t I? Oughta count for something.” He stopped pacing and whirled to face her, pointing an accusing finger at her. “And yeah, I’ve killed Slayers. Same as you kill vampires. We were _enemies_. It’s just how the game is played.”

“You think killing people is a _game_?”

“Oh, and what you do isn’t?” he scoffed. “Tell me you don't enjoy it.” She started to protest, but he cut her off. “Not the big, once a year ‘we all go to hell’ bollocks, but this…” He gestured around them at the cemetery. “Patrolling, scrapping with vamps every night. You love it.”

Leaning in close, Spike murmured in her ear, “Could feel it, when you were fighting me.” He pulled back so that he was looking her in the eye when he said, “We’re the same, you and me.”

“We are _not_ the same,” Buffy replied, pushing him away from her. “I don’t kill innocent people.”

_“Well, all right,”_ Spike intoned in a dramatic, operatic voice, looking up at the sky again as the mournful background music faded in.

_“No stars tonight  
The moon must hide  
Can't bear to see my face”_

He held his hand theatrically over his face, before dropping it to his side and turning toward Buffy, who rolled her eyes.

_“So many moons have passed  
So many suns gone down  
Too much blood under the bridge  
Too many worlds turned upside down”_

“Oh, please. This is ridiculous.” With an exasperated shake of her head, Buffy turned to walk away from him, but Spike caught her by the arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

“Buffy!”

“What?” she snapped. “You're not sorry you killed them!”

“No, I'm not,” he admitted, as the background music changed, becoming more earnest and sincere. “I can't be sorry, Buffy. It’s just what I am. Haven’t got a soul to prove to you…” He shrugged. “Besides, sorry gets you nothing, doesn't make up for it. Can't make up for it, can I?”

Buffy gave him an annoyed look. “What’s your point, Spike?”

He closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him as he sang, savoring the sweetness of remorseless violence.

_“So many victims washing on the shores  
An ocean of pure tears,  
So many pleas for mercy, howls of pain  
Intoxicating fears”_

When he opened his eyes again, Buffy was staring at him. “You're disgusting,” she said, punching him in the nose and wiping the expression off his face. “You – _enjoyed_ it.”

“Course I did.” Spike caught her by the wrist before she could land another punch, and then responded with one of his own. “Vampire, right? You gotta understand that, gotta know what I was to see that I've changed.” He kicked her in the stomach, knocking her backwards against the wall of a nearby crypt.

“This? This is you…” She shoved him away with a grunt. “…changed?”

Ducking a roundhouse kick, he snarked back, “You started it, pet.”

He knew he had to keep pushing her – he needed her to accept him, demon and all, or it would never be the relationship he wanted. He sang forcefully as they continued to fight.

_“I used my body just like a bandage,  
I used their bodies just like a wound,  
And I'll never know where they disappeared,  
But I can see them rising up out of my memories now,  
Just like the demons rising up from a tomb...”_

Just as he hit the word “demons,” he slammed her down on a large flat stone monument and backed away. She sat up slowly, taking the opportunity to regroup as he spoke.

“No soul, but I’m haunted anyway, knowing what you think of me. It kills me, Buffy – trying to be good for you.”

She looked up at him, her anger softening, and Spike knew that what he was saying had started to affect her.

Crouching in front of the monument on which she was perched, he said softly, “Buffy, the only reason I’ve changed is because of you.”

Buffy shook her head in denial, but he knew he’d broken down her certainty. “The chip…” she said feebly.

“ _Not_ the chip,” he insisted, rising to pace in front of her again. “May not be able to hurt people, but I could’ve done a fair bit of damage, yeah? Get minions to bring me food, do the dirty work. Hell, could’ve set fire to the whole damned town if I wanted to.” He watched her eyes widen, as though she’d never thought of the possibilities, of the ways he could’ve gotten around the chip’s restraints if he’d wanted to stay the Big Bad. “Didn’t have to switch to bagged blood. Didn’t have to help you and your bloody Scoobies, patrolling, fighting my own kind. Did it for you, pet. Wanted to prove to you I could…

_“But there's no way ever to apologize,  
Repent or make amends,  
No release and no redemption,  
And the hunger never ends...”_

Buffy was surprised to find that she was holding back tears as she watched him. Spike was naked, vulnerable, exposing everything of himself to her. The man, the demon, and everything in between. She began to understand his struggle, his inner chaos, the way his love for her had made him more of a man, but not enough to quash the demon within. She saw him trying to reconcile his two dueling natures, to be the man she wanted him to be.

And she found it echoed her own struggle – her desire to give in to him, to surrender to the emotions she could no longer deny, even when every fiber of her being vibrated with the wrongness of it. Her senses screamed at her, “Vampire!” and her slayer-trained mind called him a killer, a murderer, worthy of her stake and nothing more.

But he was challenging her to see him, just as he was, not as measured against the benchmarks Angel had left, not as the Council had taught her to see him. Challenging her to forgive what he had done in his past, to love him for who he had become… for who he still might be, with her by his side.

“Spike…” she whispered, standing up to approach him, but he was already propelled into the next verse, the music swelling behind him, drawing into the big finale.

_“And when I grasped for life,”_ Spike sang bitterly, reaching out a hand to clutch the air.

_“I always killed the things for which I yearned  
I wish to be a flame and reduce to ashes  
But I have never burned”_

His head tilted back, his arms spread as he sang to the sky, _“I long to fly in total freedom, and yet these chains keep dragging me down.”_ Then, he fell to his knees in front of her.

_“I want to be an angel or the devil himself  
But I am nothing but a creature longing for the things I can’t have!”_

He held his arms out, bearing his chest to her as though expecting a staking, stripped of all pretenses. Just Spike, beautiful, passionate, tender, reckless and fierce. Her lover, her freedom, her protection.

Buffy’s hand shot up to cover her mouth in shock. She took a hesitant step backwards, and Spike deflated, certain he’d gone too far, frightened her away.

Then, without warning, she dropped to her knees and fell into his arms. Her mouth found his, capturing him in a desperate, fervent kiss, and he could taste the salt of her tears as she collapsed bonelessly into his embrace.

*****

Tara stood soberly, gazing out the large windows of the throne room. It hadn’t taken her long to realize that Sweet’s castle on a cloud was little more than a prison. She hadn’t been allowed to leave the room since he’d brought her in – magical barriers blocked the doors, which were also guarded by those creepy minions with the ventriloquist’s dummy heads.  
  
The only viable exit led to a small suite – bedroom, bathroom, and modest sitting area, all tastefully decorated and furnished with antique mahogany furniture – which Tara had been informed was her new home. Each room had large windows looking out on the world she would never be allowed to explore. She had been told that all her food would be brought to her, whenever she requested it, though she had yet to test that out. As soon as Sweet left her alone, she collapsed on the large bed, exhausted from the night’s adventures.  
  
She slept through the entire day, waking to find her windows to the outside world had darkened. Two glowing moons hung suspended in the sky amidst the stars. At least the moons had each other; she was alone in this strange, unfriendly place.  
  
Suddenly, she was hit with a pang of longing so strong it nearly overwhelmed her.  
  
She missed Willow.  
  
Despite what had happened, despite Willow's own part in sending her here, Tara couldn’t help wishing her girlfriend was there with her. Anything seemed bearable with Willow by her side. She regretted the way they’d fought, the way things had ended up. She wished she’d done things differently, tried to teach Willow the proper uses of magic instead of just ignoring it until she couldn’t hold it inside anymore. Tried to talk to her instead of just moving out.  
  
Raising one hand to the windowpane, running her fingers over the glass as though stroking her lover’s face, Tara began to sing.  
  
_“If I could only dream this world away  
I'd awake  
In your arms  
If I could keep this bitter life at bay  
Wide awake  
In your arms”_  
  
She began to drift throughout the suite, wandering aimlessly through the rooms as her mournful tune went on.  
  
_“The vow that keeps me from you  
I cannot undo  
I'm lost  
Lost in a fantasy that can't come true  
  
“If I could only dream this world away  
I'd awake  
In your arms  
I long to sleep forever  
Dreaming only of you  
I'm lost  
How many nights like this can I go through?”_  
  
She was just starting to wonder how long it would take to grow her hair out to use as rope for escaping out the window, Rapunzel style, when she heard a voice in her head.  
  
**_‘Tara? Tara, baby, are you there?’_**  
  
Tara reached out through the psychic link and felt for Willow’s presence. _‘ **Willow? Willow, I’m here!’**_  
  
A long time went by before she heard the response, faint and hesitant in her head. _‘ **…Tara?’**  
  
**‘I’m here! Willow, you have to help me!’**  
  
**‘Tara?’**_  
  
Tara felt the connection wavering. They’d never tried to sustain it between dimensions before. She poured all her emotional strength into maintaining the link. **_‘Willow, can you hear me?’_**  
  
The reply was barely audible, fading in and out. **_‘I’m… find you, baby… gonna get you back.’_**  
  
Tara squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on one thought with everything she had.  
  
**_‘I love you.’_**  
  
*****  
  
**_‘I’m gonna find you, baby. I promise I’m gonna get you back,’_ ** Willow said, silently but forcefully. She got no answer, but sent one final message across time and space before easing her concentration and letting out a long, slow breath. _‘ **I love you, baby. And I’m sorry.’**_  
  
She collapsed onto her bed, hugging a pillow tightly to her chest, her emotions on overload. At least she knew now. She knew for sure that Tara was alive.  
  
It was late, and she knew she ought to get some sleep, especially if she wanted to have the energy to pull off the spells she’d need to get Tara back. But sleep wouldn’t come, and she couldn’t expel the restlessness that plagued her.  
  
_“Inner voices  
Keeping me awake  
Will I ever sleep again?  
Reassessing  
Everything I’ve done  
Choices that I can’t explain  
All for Tara  
This is what I claimed  
All for Tara  
Have I betrayed you?”_  
  
Her voice wavered as she sang, her sadness pouring out of her, flowing into the music, feeding it, letting it gather momentum, increasing in volume and tempo.  
  
_“With our old life  
Ever out of reach  
Look at what I’ve led you to  
God forgive me  
Look at what I’ve done  
Look how I protected you  
All for Tara  
Shouldn't I have known?  
  
“All for Tara  
Was it really you  
Who I was thinking of?  
All for Tara  
But at the start  
Were you foremost in my heart?”_  
  
Rising from the bed, Willow moved to stand at the window, gently brushing aside the curtains to peer out at the empty backyard, drenched in amorphous shadows. The moon glimmered overhead, casting a bluish glow over everything.  
  
_“All for Tara  
That’s how I’ll live  
Till I save you  
Till you forgive me  
I’ll dedicate my life  
I swear upon my soul  
I’ll find a way to set you free”_  
  
Gripping the windowsill, Willow sang with fortitude, her voice crisp and clear.  
  
_“All for Tara  
Till my dying breath  
Long as you’re in need of me  
I will somehow learn to be strong  
I will live to right this wrong!”_  
  
*****  
  
Gasping for breath, Buffy broke the kiss, turning her face into Spike’s neck and inhaling his sweet and smoky scent. She tightened her arms around him, nestling in his strong embrace, but he pulled back to look her in the eyes.  
  
“Buffy, what – ? Are you… is this…?” His voice broke, unable to form the questions that were rattling around in his brain. He was having trouble processing that Buffy was kissing him – that he had shown her exactly what kind of monster he was, and she was still kissing him.  
  
Buffy brought one hand up to gently caress his cheek. _“I have never felt like this,”_ she confessed to him hesitantly in song, both of them still on their knees in the middle of the cemetery. _“For once I'm lost for words. Your smile has really thrown me.”_ She ran her fingertips across his lips, causing them to curve upwards into the smile she sang about.  
  
_“This is not like me at all  
I never thought I'd know  
The kind of love you've shown me”_  
  
The faint piano accompaniment grew stronger, as Buffy ran her hands down Spike’s arms, intertwining her fingers with his when she reached his hands. She stood, pulling him upright along with her.  
  
_“Now, no matter where I am  
No matter what I do  
I see your face appearing”_  
  
Again, she stroked his face with soft, tender touches, her eyes never leaving his.  
  
_“Like an unexpected song  
An unexpected song  
That only we are hearing”_  
  
“What does that mean?” Spike asked her hoarsely.  
  
“It means I know who you are,” Buffy replied. “And it doesn’t matter. None of it matters anymore.”  
  
“So, just like that… I sing a song, and all’s forgiven?” His voice was hesitant, and his brain kept trying to tell him something about gift horses.  
  
“It – it wasn’t just the song, Spike,” she told him, letting one hand slip inside his leather coat, tracing the muscles of his stomach through his thin cotton t-shirt. “You’ve been so good to me, ever since I came back. And before, too. Dawn… she told me what you did for her, for everyone. Helping out when you thought I was gone.”  
  
He gave her a sad smile, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Made a promise.”  
  
“I know, and I – I never said thank you. And then, your song… I know that I put you in those chains, with the way I treated you, and telling you that you can never be good. I was wrong, Spike. You won’t _be_ a good man… you already are.”  
  
He looked at her, amazed. “Buffy, are you…?”  
  
“I…” – _can’t say that word_ – “…care about you.” Buffy looked into his eyes. “I’m yours. And I want – I want to give you all those things you think you can’t have.”  
  
Spike closed his eyes briefly, a joyful, relieved smile crossing his face. “You, Buffy… all I wanted was you.”  
  
Buffy kissed him, and then the music, which had been playing softly in the background all along, crescendoed again, prompting her to continue her song.  
  
_“I don't know what is going on  
Can't work it out at all  
Whatever made you choose me?”_  
  
Spike leaned in, pressing kisses over her eyes, her nose, her cheeks. It suited her, this song, so very like her to show him how she felt without ever saying those few precious words. But she knew how much he loved her, and whether she would say it or not, he understood now that she shared his feelings.  
  
_“I just can't believe my eyes  
You look at me as though  
You couldn't bear to lose me”_  
  
Spike grew serious then, his arms tightening around her as he buried his face in her hair, letting her scent surround him, fruity and intoxicating and musky and _Buffy_. “Lost you once, love. Couldn’t ever do it again.”  
  
“Spike?”  
  
He looked down at her, finding her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “What is it, love?”  
  
“I want you to know… They didn’t bring me back to life, Spike. You did.” When he gave her a quizzical look, Buffy added, “Maybe they did the spell, but I wouldn’t be… Without you…” She sighed. Unable to put her emotions into words, she simply repeated, “You brought me back.”  
  
He didn’t speak, simply kissed her breathless again. When he finally released her, she sang,  
  
_“Now, no matter where I am  
No matter what I do  
I see your face appearing  
Like an unexpected song  
An unexpected song  
That only we are hearing”_  
  
As the music faded to a quiet background ambiance, Buffy leaned into him and asked, “Spike? Walk me home?”  
  
The spell was broken in an instant, and Spike’s face fell. “Yeah… sure, pet.” He looked down at his boots. “’S just… thought we’d go back to my crypt… y’know…”  
  
Buffy shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t leave Dawn another night. I’m already in the running for the Worst Sister Ever Award.”  
  
“Right,” he replied, pulling away from her, his disappointment evident, even though he knew she had a valid point. “Right. Niblet comes first.”  
  
Buffy put her arms around him again, kissing him gently. “You’re coming with me, doofus.”  
  
He pulled back in surprise. “Huh? You mean…”  
  
“I want to make love to you in my bed.”  
  
That was all the encouragement Spike needed, putting their supernatural speed to use as he raced back to the house with Buffy in tow. They crept silently up the stairs, careful not to wake Dawn or Willow. Once they were securely behind the closed door of her bedroom, Buffy collapsed into his arms, out of breath and choking back giggles.  
  
“Gotta be quiet, pet,” he whispered in her ear as he held her close.  
  
“Guess I’ll just have to keep that mouth of yours occupied,” she whispered back with a wicked grin.  
  
Spike let out a low growl. “Think I’ve got a few ideas.” With that, he swept her up in his arms and deposited her on the bed, smothering Buffy’s squeal with a kiss as he jumped on top of her. He peeled her clothes off slowly, almost reverently, kissing her skin as it emerged from beneath her shirt. She pushed his duster off his shoulders, but after shrugging out of it, he lost interest in his own undressing, focused on the nipple he was teasing to a peak in his mouth, his hands causing goose bumps as his fingers roamed up her sides and down her arms and over the curve of her breast. He left a wet trail down her stomach, swirling his tongue around her belly button before continuing on his downward path.  
  
Buffy let out a gasp as she felt his tongue lap against her opening, and she let her hands stroke through his hair, gently loosening his curls. With the most tender of touches, Spike’s tongue slipped between her folds, taking the time to taste her as though it were the first time. She arched her back, urging him on, unable to take his slow pace. Reading her cues, Spike’s hands slid up her thighs to grip her hips as he delved into her harder and faster.  
  
Buffy squirmed, thrusting against his face, digging her heels into his back. He brought his mouth up to her clit, teasing her, licking and sucking until she was on the verge of tears. His fingers joined his eager tongue, plunging into her depths as his mouth worked over her clit, and then suddenly she was whirling through space, stars exploding into supernovas before her eyes. Buffy turned her head to the side, burying her face in her pillow to muffle her cries.  
  
When her thighs finally stopped quivering, Spike kissed his way back up to her mouth, letting her taste herself on his lips. Buffy gave him a blissful smile, and then began to sing softly as she undressed him.  
  
_“Now, no matter where I am  
No matter what I do  
I see your face appearing  
Like an unexpected song  
An unexpected song  
That only we are hearing  
  
“Like an unexpected song  
An unexpected song  
That only we are hearing”_  
  
Spike pressed his fingers against her lips, and Buffy drew them into her mouth, her own juices tart on her tongue. Withdrawing his hand, Spike replaced it with his lips, his legs twining with hers as the kiss deepened, pressing his hardness against her as her soft, pliant body molded to his. Buffy pulled him on top of her and took a moment to drink in the sculpted-marble figure above her. Running her hands down his rippled chest, she whispered, “Make love to me.”  
  
“Every time,” he murmured, knowing that her words were less a request of him – for it was what he had always done – and more a statement of her own intentions, though she couldn’t yet bring herself to say the words he longed to hear.  
  
Sliding downward, easing into her, sheathing himself in her warmth, Spike began to do exactly what she asked.

*****

“Hello?” Dawn called, coming in the front door after school. “Anybody home?”

She got no response. Making her way into the kitchen, she noticed that her cereal bowl from that morning was still sitting in the kitchen sink, and the open cereal box was still on the counter where she’d left it. She had been in a rush – she’d overslept her alarm and no one had been around to wake her up.

Dawn could tell Willow hadn’t been downstairs all day; otherwise, she would’ve cleaned up. Buffy, on the other hand, would have left a terse note telling her to wash her dishes or she was grounded. Instead, it looked like nothing had been disturbed all day.

_They can’t possibly still be sleeping,_ Dawn thought to herself, as she made a peanut butter and fluff sandwich. Of course, knowing Buffy, she probably wasn’t even there. _I bet she didn’t come home again last night,_ she thought resentfully. _It’s not like she’s been much with the caring lately._

But even when she was out all night, Buffy had still always made it back by morning. What if something had happened to her?

Scarfing down her sandwich, Dawn dumped her dirty dishes in the sink on top of the cereal bowl and headed upstairs to find Willow. She’d been all weepy and mopey ever since the thing with Tara, but she was also the only adult in the house, and if something had happened to Buffy, well… Willow would just have to snap out of it.

Her door was still closed, indicating that she hadn’t gotten up yet. Dawn let out an exasperated sigh, and was just about to knock on the door when something else down the hall caught her eye.

Buffy’s door was closed, too. That meant she _was_ here – though God only knew what time she’d gotten in – and was probably still sleeping.

“Buffy,” Dawn said, barging in without knocking. _Serves her right for making me worry._ “If you don’t get your ass out of… bed…”

She trailed off in shock, faced with, in fact, an ass.

Spike’s, to be precise. Buffy was lying on her back, Spike on his stomach next to her, an arm and a leg draped possessively across her body, his face nestled in the crook of her neck. Both of them were naked, the covers tangled at their feet. While the position of Spike’s limbs concealed most of her sister, Dawn was still left with the unexpected sight of the vampire’s lily-white bottom. So, she did the only logical thing she could do, given the situation.

She screamed.

Buffy and Spike awoke with a start. Catching sight of Dawn in the doorway, they, too, screamed, as Buffy scrambled for the covers and Spike dove off the far side of the bed to avoid the younger girl’s eyes.

“Oh, my God…” Dawn managed, as she pointed a shaky finger at the bed. Her jaw continued to work, but no further sound could be forced from her throat.

“Dawnie – oh, God… what did you see?” Buffy asked, clutching the covers to her chest. “Don’t you _knock_?”

“Um… naked ass,” Dawn said, her eyes wide. “Naked _Spike_ ass,” she clarified, prompting Spike to pop his head up sheepishly from behind the bed.

“Sorry, Bit,” he mumbled, before glancing at Buffy. “Told you we shoulda gone to my crypt.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Well, if you’d locked the door…”

“Oh, my God, Buffy!” Dawn’s voice took on a hysterical tone, but it seemed to be happy hysterical, rather than angry or frightened hysterical. “You and Spike… are you guys…? How long?” she demanded.

Buffy and Spike exchanged a look. “A few days. Since the night at the Bronze,” Buffy admitted.

Dawn’s expression suddenly changed to one of comprehension. “So, that’s where you’ve been all week… Oh, my God!” she squealed again.

“You’re not mad?” Buffy asked her hesitantly.

“No! Probably scarred for life…” – she shot another glance at Spike – “but not mad.”

“Okay, then, could you, uh, go away now?” Buffy glared at her, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. “We’ll, um, be downstairs in a minute to talk about… things.”

Dawn nodded and left the room, but did a quick double take before she closed the door behind her. As scarring as it was to see her sister naked in bed with a guy, she had to admit…

Spike’s ass was pretty nice.

*****

Giles looked up from the cash register as Xander came into the Magic Box.

“Hello, Xander,” he said, but the boy barely even acknowledged him. “Xander? Are you all right?”

Xander glanced distractedly at the Watcher. “Oh, uh, yeah. Fine.”

“If you’re looking for Anya, she’s not here,” Giles told him. “She had a meeting of some sort.”

“Yeah… Small Business Owners… something… Association.” Xander continued to wander aimlessly through the store, his eyes flicking over the merchandise as though his mind were preoccupied elsewhere.

“Xander, are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Giles,” Xander said exasperatedly, pulling a small envelope out of his coat pocket and studying it. “I’m just…”

“Worried about Willow?”

Xander looked at him, surprised. “Oh. Yeah, I guess.”

Giles could tell from his reaction that it was more than Willow that was concerning him. “Anxious about the wedding planning, perhaps?”

“No. No, not at all.” This time, Xander avoided his eyes, turning the envelope over and over in his hands.

Giles came out from behind the counter, concerned about Xander's behavior. “It’s quite understandable. A wedding can be a terribly stressful time. I know that Anya has been quite –”

“I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” Xander interrupted.

“Of course,” he conceded. “I just thought, with so many women around, you might want another male perspective.”

Xander stood silently, avoiding Giles' eyes for a long moment, torn between wanting to keep his problems a secret and feeling the need to confide in someone. Finally, he said quietly, “There’s not going to be a wedding.”

Giles’ mouth dropped open in shock. “What? I don’t understand. What do you mean?” He took off his glasses and began polishing them with a handkerchief. “Have you and Anya called it off?”

Xander shook his head. “Not yet. I – I’m leaving her.”

Giles' expression softened with sympathy. “Xander…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it!” he snapped, before breaking into song.

_“No more questions  
Please  
No more tests  
Comes the day you say, ‘What for?’  
Please – no more”_

Giles let out a sigh. _“They disappoint, they disappear, they die but they don’t.”_

“What?” Xander asked, confused.

_“They disappoint in turn, I fear,”_ Giles sang. _“Forgive, though, they won’t.”_

Xander shook his head in frustration, sinking down in a chair at the research table.

_“No more riddles  
No more jests  
No more curses you can’t undo  
Left by fathers who hated you  
No more quests  
No more feelings  
Time to shut the door  
Just – no more”_

Nodding in understanding, Giles put his glasses back on. “You’re afraid of turning out like your father.”

“He was a drunk,” Xander said bitterly. “And an abusive husband and a lousy father.”

“And you think leaving Anya is the solution?”

“Only way to protect her,” he replied with regret. “What if I turn out…?” Xander shook his head. “I can’t take that chance.”

“Ah,” Giles said knowingly. Leaning on the table across from Xander, he began to sing again.

_“Running away – let’s do it  
Free from the ties that bind  
No more despair  
Or burdens to bear  
Out there in the yonder”_

The last line was accompanied by a fluttering hand motion as Giles gestured off to the side.

“No, I get this,” Xander interrupted, tapping the edge of the envelope on the table nervously. “This is like reverse psychology or something.”

“It’s just advice, Xander,” Giles assured him. “You might do well to listen.

_“Running away – go to it  
Where did you have in mind?  
Have to take care  
Unless there’s a ‘where’  
You’ll only be wandering blind  
Just more questions  
Different kind”_

Xander studied Giles, as though giving the words some serious thought. Then, he glanced at the note in his hand, his cowardly escape. He didn’t have a plan beyond leaving the note in the Magic Box for Anya to find. He hadn’t thought about leaving Sunnydale, though of course, it’d be terribly awkward to stay. Anya pretty much lived with him now – would he make her move out? Would he leave?

_“Where are we to go?”_ Giles went on, echoing his thoughts. _“Where are we ever to go?_

_“Running away – we’ll do it  
Why sit around, resigned?  
Trouble is, son  
The farther you run  
The more you feel undefined  
For what you’ve left undone  
And, more, what you’ve left behind”_

Now lost in his own thoughts, Giles reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his plane ticket, studying it intently.

“What’s that?” Xander asked. “What…” He trailed off, catching sight of the BA logo. “You’re leaving. You can’t leave! Buffy needs you! We all need you.”

“You don’t, really,” said Giles sadly. “Not anymore.”

Xander’s face fell, only to see Giles rip up the ticket in the next moment.

“But I don’t think I’m ready to give up what I’d be leaving behind.”

Xander breathed a sigh of relief, and then his eyes widened with amusement. “You reverse psychologied yourself, didn’t you?”

“No, I…” Giles’ protest died on his lips, a small smile creeping onto his face. “Well, yes, I suppose so.” He looked at the young man across the table. “And you?”

Xander glanced down at his hands and silently ripped up the envelope he was holding. Giles nodded.

_“We disappoint, we leave a mess, we die but we don’t,”_  he sang.

_“We disappoint in turn, I guess,”_ Xander picked up the melody. _“Forget, though, we won’t.”_

They locked eyes and sang together, _“Like father, like son.”_

With a sigh, Xander rose from the table, hands shoved in his pockets as he wandered to the front of the store and gazed out the window.

_“No more demons  
Waging war  
Can’t we just pursue our lives  
With our children and our wives?  
’Til that happy day arrives  
How do you ignore  
All the witches  
All the curses  
All the wolves, all the lies  
The false hopes, the goodbyes  
The reverses,  
All the wondering what even worse is  
Still in store?_

_“All the children...  
All the demons..._

_“No more”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Giles' song is ["It's Not the End of the World"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rQJN0slxY80) from _Tell Me On a Sunday_.
> 
> 2\. Willow's song is ["No Good Deed"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EH61vwnjhDY) from _Wicked_.
> 
> 3\. Spike's song is ["Confessions of a Vampire"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QcZP9BFL0TI) from _Dance of the Vampires_ , which is, by the way, one of the worst musicals ever, though I hear it's mildly better in German. I had to rearrange a lot of the song, because I couldn't use some of the verses (for obvious reasons, if you listen to it).
> 
> 4\. Tara's song is ["If I Could Only Dream This World Away"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fAWe6LpdNPc) from _The Woman in White_.
> 
> 5\. Willow's song is ["All For Laura"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zbEdeAdJJMI) from _The Woman in White_.
> 
> 6\. Buffy's song is ["Unexpected Song"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvGJtCkwXBk) from _Tell Me On a Sunday_.
> 
> 7\. Xander and Giles' song is ["No More"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MMwIBI3TrcU) from _Into the Woods_.


End file.
